


Raiders don't qualify for pension

by FalloutUtopia (n00bfarmor)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Recreational Drug Use, Resolved Sexual Tension, Swearing, Tags May Change, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 116,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7253335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n00bfarmor/pseuds/FalloutUtopia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the different raiders' monologues when sneaking around post-war Boston.</p>
<p>Black Eyed Aiden was planning to quit his career as a raider. Just one last haul then he would quit, settle down, and spend his hard earned caps living the life in this harsh commonwealth wasteland. Just one more raid, and he would be done.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the plans made by one Sole Survivor of Vault 111 did not coincide with Aiden's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“... one last haul, then I’ll call it quits," Aiden said and took a deep breath. He leaned back on the old pre-war school locker while kicking his legs over the ledge of the broken floor. From his slouched position, he lifted the sack hood off his head in order to more closely inspect the bullet chamber of his crudely fashioned pipe rifle; a process he had repeated numerous times since the beginning of his shift.

The Raider beside him coughed on the next inhale of smoke, and stopped smoking his cigarette altogether in favor of staring incredulously at his fellow Raider, wearing a textbook version of  _ ‘are you shitting me’ _ -expression on his face. He stared openly until the Raider seemed to come to the conclusion that Aiden was in fact serious. 

“Don’t talk shit Aiden, ‘s not like you have somethin’ better to do," the Raider beside him scoffed. “You too good for havin’ a full stomach?” he asked while he flicked the ashes down the ledge, slowly falling to the floor one story below them.

Deeming the rifle fit for service, Aiden cocked his gun before he redirected his attention to the other Raider.

“Can’t keep doing this forever. People like us don’t get old, and I’d like to spend the caps I’ve made before I drop," he replied, letting the rifle rest in his lap.

Even though the current Raider-suit was way better than the last one, they rarely allowed people to leave for any prolonged amount of time. If you weren’t out harassing settlers, robbing traders, threatening vaulters or protecting your turf, you weren’t useful. And the life expectancy of a Raider that weren’t useful could be counted in hours. Using one hand. 

_ Provided you still had one or more fingers on that one hand. _

The other Raider snickered.

“So what. Hangin’ with this suit puts food on the table, not like you need anythin’ else. ‘sides, ‘s not like they’re those crazy sons o’ bitches down the ol’ forge," the Raider responded and continued to inhale the smoke from the over 200 year old cigarette, whiffs of smoke rose in tendrils up towards the dirty ceiling.

Aiden wrinkled his nose in disgust and mumbled something about food not being everything, before he got up and dusted himself off.

“Gonna take a leak, can’t stand the smell of you," he said and repositioned the sack hood to ensure it would not fall off his head, just as he walked away from the ledge.

The other Raider laughed, not noticeably put off by the remark, and blew smoke in the direction Aiden had been moments before.

“Whatever," the Raider said while he put out the last embers of the cigarette using the sole of his boot. “And it’s your turn to empty the bucket," he added as an afterthought.

Aiden slowed his steps and turned his head back in the direction of the Raider.

“Ok, I give in," he sighed heavily. “How come it’s my turn to empty the bucket?”

The chain-smoking Raider had already brought up a new cigarette to his mouth and tried to light it with the flickering flame of an old flip-light. After the fourth or fifth try he finally managed to light it, and proceeded to take a deep drag of the Grey Tortoise’s.

“‘cus it smelled like piss when I was in there, and I couldn’t be bothered to do it," the Raider answered, with a wild grin spread across his face.

Swearing under his breath, Aiden muttered some creative ways of how he would dispose of the said bucket involving the Raider, his mother and a number of the Raider’s belongings, while he made his way towards the bathroom.

Since the old buildings no longer had working plumbing, people had been forced to make do. Most of the larger settlements had built outdoor outhouses, others did what they needed in the closest bush, behind a rock or in cover of any other type of object. In downtown Boston, standing outside with your back turned was a good way to get shot, maimed or dragged away by Super Mutants. To avoid unnecessary exposure, the Boston school Raiders kept buckets in-house for their non-fecal type needs. To avoid stinking the place up (worse than it already was, that is), the buckets needed to be emptied every other hour, depending on how many Raiders were in-house and the general weather outside.

Stepping into the toilet area, Aiden placed his rifle next to the entrance and proceed to walk to the open and somewhat intact stall (though the stall door had not been seen for as long as he had been there). Aiden pulled up his sack hood and pulled down his pants and proceeded to relieve himself.

“... hmmm," Aiden exhaled while the trickling sound of liquid hitting liquid bounced off the old tile walls in the otherwise quiet bathroom, the only other sound heard beside Aiden’s own breathing. Until the silence was broken by the unmistakeable sound of someone cocking a shotgun behind him. 

“Pull up your pants," threatened a thick and raspy voice behind him. Aiden froze. The voice did not come from any of his fellow Raiders, excluding the possibility of a somewhat tasteless joke between friends. The only other option being that they had somehow been attacked without him noticing.

_ Fuck. _

Aiden did not move. He considered turning around to look at his assailant but quickly abandoned that idea when he felt the muzzle of the same shotgun he had heard earlier, poke him.

“I said, pull, up, your pants," the Voice enunciated each word, while the end of the shotgun was pressed firmly in the middle of his back.

_ Double fuck. _

Aiden still did not move, one hand was used to hold himself mid piss and the other clutched at the stall wall. Considering his options, his future was looking very bleak. Stealing a glance towards the exit, he spotted his pipe-rifle leaned safely up towards the wall. Safely out of reach.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why is this my life? _

“I’m not gonna repeat myself," the Voice darkened, the shotgun barrel digging deeper into his back. “Unlike you lowlives, I prefer not to shoot someone with their pants down. But if you keep stalling, I won’t be that upset about making an exception.”

_ Great. Fucking great. Of course talking about quitting would jinx my life. How is it that me planning of getting out of the game would result in me dying with my face-down in a bucket of day-old urine? How is that in any way fair - _

“So that’s your answer then," the voice interrupted Aiden’s inner monologue.

“No, wait, I’ll -" Aiden released both hands to bend down and pull up his pants. While about to grab his trouser, he aborts the motion to instead grab the edge of the piss-bucket.

_ He said to empty the thing, not  _ where _ to empty it. _

Aiden chucked the bucket behind him without a backwards glance, and sprinted out of the the bathroom with one hand holding his pants, leaving the assailant sputtering and swearing behind him. He ducked around the corner just as the first shot was fired, and continued to run to the kitchen area to alert the others of the intruders.

The kitchen looked like the aftermath of a Super Mutant feast.

Aiden bend down to look for any sign of life, even though it was clearly discernible from quite some distance that it was a lost cause.

“Here Raidy, Raidy, Raider.” The same dark (albeit now even darker) and gravelly voice from earlier could be heard from a couple of corridors down from the kitchen. That the guy thought it apparently safe to talk that loud in unknown enemy territory could only mean one thing.

_ He, a single guy with a shotgun, had already killed everyone? How could I not hear a single shot being fired? _

Assessing the situation, Aiden realised that he in his rush from certain death had left his rifle in the bathroom. From his current position, the intruder was between him and his gun. Even though it felt somewhat wrong to do so, he crouched low and started to loot the corpses of his old fellow Raiders. After the seventh body yielded nothing but old food and Raider leather gear, panic started to grow in his chest.

_ Where are the guns? The bats? Knifes? Ammo? Anything? _

None of the bodies of those he checked held any weapons whatsoever. Raiders were not known to walk around unarmed, even inside the safety of their base. Someone had already checked the corpses and left what was not worth looting to the scavengers and mole rats.

_ Who in their right mind carries around seven pipe rifles?! _

“Where are you, you little piece of shit.” The Voice of the intruder was much closer now, indicating that he was probably just around the corner.

Fear gripped Aiden’s heart. He slowly backed away from the direction of the Voice, towards the only other exit in the room; a door leading to a wrecked pantry. Crawling between the ruined shelves in the pantry, Aiden hid in the corner furthest from the door. As soon as he had crouched down, the door to the pantry was kicked open with enough force for it to bounce off of the wall. From his hiding position in the corner, Aiden could see the intruder’s shins and his leather boots, which in the back-light reflected from the kitchen, looked somewhat wet.

“I wasn’t mad before, but when I get my hands on you, you’ll wish I was ferral," the intruder growled menacing.

Step by slow step, the intruder made his way between the shelves, closer and closer to where Aiden was hiding.

_ Please, please, please. _

Aiden did not know to whom he was pleading, but to whatever deity or spirit that was listening, he begged to not be found. Although if he looked at the situation objectively, the deities seemed to favor neither him nor his Raider brethren that night.

20 steps, 15 steps, 10 steps, the angered assailant got ever so closer.

The hushed silence was only broken by the voice of another man.

“Hancock," was suddenly shouted from somewhere outside of the pantry, which caused his soon to-be murderer to stop in his track only a couple steps short of noticing where Aiden was hiding.

“In here," the husky voiced man shouted back towards the kitchen. After a few moments Aiden could see another man stand in the kitchen doorway, blue tight pants tucked into a pair of lightly used high quality boots.

“The place is picked clean, we can leave," the man in the doorway stated. The other man turned partially towards the doorway before he sighed deeply.

“I’ll leave as soon as I get the little prick that tried to shower me in urine," he forced out between grit teeth and again started to walk towards Aiden. The man in the doorway snorted, and made himself comfortable by leaning against the doorframe

“Really?" he asked while he sounded as if he tried to contain his laughter. “How bad did he get you?”

The other man again stopped in his continued pursuit of Aiden.

“My boots, and part of my pants," he stated while he seemed to reassess the damage caused to his clothes.

“Well then, we better leave so you can wash it out before it permanently stains your renaissance outfit," the man added humorously while he re-entered the kitchen area, and left the pantry without another word. The other man seemed to debate internally what to do before he followed the other intruder out to the kitchen.

Aiden sat in the same corner while he listened to the intruders walk out of the kitchen through the opposite entryway, and then proceeded to exit the old school building. He continued to sit there while he allowed his heart rate to return to normal, before he got up and surveyed the damage done by the two trespassers. All Raiders dead, except one sole survivor. Aiden stood there and could only think of one response to all this.

_ … fuck. _


	2. Chapter 2

After the Raider of Raiders had left, Aiden went back to the bathroom only to find his rifle missing. Not a single weapon was left on the premises of the old school, which forced Aiden to relocate sooner rather than later. Most caps that they had earned was gone as well, but Aiden had a small stash hidden away for rainy days. Or as in this case: total annihilation of the local Raider community. Walking around Boston without a gun could only be considered as suicidal. If none of the opposing Raider factions were successful in ending him right off the bat, the gunners, the Super Mutants, or the Boston wildlife surely would be. But in order to find and join up with a new crew, he had to arm himself. And that left little room for any other options in that matter.

Scraping together what he could find, Aiden moved towards the closest settlement that would hopefully let him in; Bunker hill. As Aiden’s ex-crew used to extort the small caravan stop, there was a small chance he could pull off a speech about handing over some gear. In anycase, it was worth a try.

On his way there, Aiden had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering a Super Mutant patrol, forcing him to change direction entirely, and instead put him en route towards Goodneighbor. Even if there was a good chance that they were less than positively inclined to help him, their wares were usually of high quality. Though it was years since the last time he had visited the place, any potential changes would hopefully not cause him too much trouble. 

Aiden was never the most agile Raider (that title was given Silent Devin who could sneak past anyone and anything, anything excluding his own death as it would turn out), but he had to make due. He advanced slowly, took more time than perhaps needed, and choose paths that were longer in order to avoid conflicts.

After he ended up being seen by a couple of Super Mutants down by Faneuil hall, he ran the last stretch of road and quickly found himself outside the door to Goodneighbor. If his old fellows at the Boston school could be trusted (which more often than not they couldn’t), the town was apparently run by a Ghoul.

_ Well, as long as I don’t run into anyone I know, or get run out of town, this will be easy. Well, famous last words and all that. _

Aiden planned to sell whatever equipment he could spare to buy a gun and a couple of stimpacks. Hopefully there would be enough caps to spare for a good meal before he would need to set a new destination for one of the other Raider camps.

Aiden took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped into Goodneighbor.

Inside he could see two storefronts, a couple of tough looking Ghouls holding submachine guns, and some drifters milling about. At first glance, the town guards immediately seemed to peg him as trouble and visibly tightened their hold on their guns. Aiden could not blame them; Raider gear might not have been the most appropriate attire to wear while waltzing into a settlement of this size, but he had no other option.

Not looking for any trouble, Aiden proceeded slowly towards the general store, telegraphing his every movement in order to appear less threatening.

_ Just gonna buy me a gun, and then get out of here. Buy a gun - get out. Gun - out. Simple. _

Through hear-say, Aiden had gotten word that the Raiders at the D.B. Technical High School was apparently looking for more people to join their crew. But he would not make for good recruiting material unless he coughed up some good arms. Not to mention that the way there was overridden by Super Mutants and other nasty Commonwealth horrors.

“Hello there. You buying or selling?" an outspoken female Ghoul welcomed him. Aiden walked towards the desk carrying a couple of bloodied Raider armors, worn last by his ex-brethren.

“Both. I’m looking for a gun," he answered while he deposited more than slightly used armor parts on top of the shop desk. “Any non-expensive rifle, using either .38 or .45 ammo”.

The Ghoul women looked him up and down and regarded him with a heavy dose of skepticism. Not lifting a finger to acquiesce his request, she instead appeared to stare right through him.

“Now, I’d love to do business with you," she said in a tone that indicated the complete opposite. “- but I’d rather see the face of my customers. Makes for better conversation," she justified herself, and continued to observe him like he was a dangerous and skittish animal, ready to pounce at a seconds notice. Not that Aiden could see her hands, but he pictured the Ghoul holding the trigger of a shotgun underneath that desk. 

Not wanting to get thrown out of town, Aiden removed his sack hood and pocketed it without a word.

“Now, isn’t that better? Back to business then. A rifle you said?" she asked while she started to rummage around in the store stock.

“Yeah, cheap as shit, but not too cheap. I’d be sorta upset if it blows up in my face," he attempted at humour, which went entirely lost as the shop lady was either too busy looking for a rifle in order to listen to him, or just plainly ignored him.

He stood there waiting for the female Ghoul to turn up with a serviceable rifle. To pass time he turned around to view the town while he waited, only to see a male Ghoul clad in a red coat, a captain’s hat and leather boots, leaned on the wall inside of the shop. The Ghoul silently appraised him, regarded him with a dangerous look on his face. Aiden considered him briefly and came to the conclusion that he must be the mayor of the town. Aiden repeated his earlier mantra in his head.

_ Get the gun - get out. Get the gun - get out. _

Vowing not to cause any trouble, he ignored the possibly-mayor person and instead turned his attention to the doorway. Outside the shop, Aiden could now spot twice the amount of guards he had counted when he first entered the town. All of them looked tense and ready for a fight.

_ Get the gun - get, ok, this does not look good. _

Aiden turned back towards the shop counter, but the female Ghoul had not made any visible progress. A cold feeling of dread started to set in Aiden’s stomach, as the entire situation reeked of ‘set up’. To calm himself, he tried to reason that the amount of attention he got was due to his gear, and that the town guard was only taking precautions. What that explanation failed to establish was the presence of the town mayor in the store. It would probably be more likely that the mayor would be anywhere but here if that thesis were to hold true.

Aiden took a deep breath and turned back towards the red coated Ghoul with the main goal of placating him.

“Look, I’m buying,  _ paying _ ," Aiden clarified and rattled his bag of caps. “- and then I’m leaving. Between the guards and the security you just racked up, I’m no match. I’m not here to cause any trouble. Just, gonna get my gear and -”

“You’re not leaving," the red coated Ghoul stated with a dark and raspy voice. A voice that his body remembered so astutely that it felt like someone had just poured a bucket of cold water down Aiden’s back.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. _

Aiden stood there, his mouth gaping open, and unable to process what was happening. The recognition must have been visible in his eyes, because the Ghoul started to grin. On any other, that grin might have looked as if the person wearing it was expressing their happiness. On the Ghoul however, it looked like he had just happily planned his murder. Aiden glanced behind him only to see that the female had stopped looking for a rifle, and now stood there watching them, apparently waiting for events to unfold.

The situation reminded Aiden of Madman Jasper, who for all and every occasion had some pretty and clever words to say. When something went from bad to worse he had usually muttered: out of the frying pan and into the fire. Then again, last time he saw Jasper, he was drowning in his own blood on the school’s kitchen floor.

_ Thinking about a dead man when about to die is not constructive, Aiden! _

Aiden weighted his rather slim options. He could jump the guy and hope that the surprise was enough to earn him a distraction. At worst, that could cause the trigger happy guards to end him for attacking their leader. The other alternative would be to just run for the exit.

_ If I’m lucky, they have a similar rule as us and don’t shoot runners. _

He glanced at the shop lady one last time, noticing her inaction before he concluded that he won’t get a new gun from here.

_ Perhaps the Muties have cleared out of the way to Bunker hill by now? _

To keep the element of surprise, Aiden threw himself into a sprint towards the exit. He only got as far as the entrance of the shop when his entire world turned upside down, a wild ride that ended when he landed heavily on his back. Coughing to get back his lost breath, the Ghoul proceeded to straddle him, gathering Aiden’s unresponsive wrists in one hand and pressed them to the ground above his head, while his other hand closed over Aiden’s throat as a warning.

“You Raiders are some thickheaded asholes, I give you that," the Ghoul growled, barely winded by the exertion while Aiden still gasped for air. “This is the last time I am going to repeat myself to you, and you’d better start listening. You, are not, leaving.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-graphical mentioning of torture. It's not bad, but if that triggers you, don't read.

Aiden’s shoulder hit the ground hard when he was unceremoniously dumped in a holding cell in the lower level of the Old State House. Behind him he heard the cell door close with the sound of metal grating on metal, ending with a clang when the lock clicked into position.

“Have a pleasant stay," mocked one of the trigger happy guards before he and his colleague left the room by the spiral staircase, leaving Aiden alone in blessed silence.

Aiden laid where they had left him, perfectly still until the pain in his shoulder had become somewhat tolerable. He rolled slowly over onto his back and contemplated his current position.

_ Not dead. I guess that should count for something. _

Considering that he had come closer to death more times during the last 24 hours compared to the rest of his life, maybe surviving could debatably be called an accomplishment. The feeling of having fought for your life after shooting it out with whatever Boston could throw at you, could not be compared to the experience of being caught unarmed with your pants down (literally), and threatened at gunpoint by a crazy Ghoul with the deepest and raspiest voice on this side of the commonwealth. The mere thought of it gave him the shivers.

Looking around, Aiden noticed that the complementary bucket that should have been included with the rest of the prison-esque decor, was pointedly placed far away from his reach, on the wrong side of the iron bars. Otherwise the cell looked like a cell, or rather how Aiden would have pictured the inside of a cell to look like; dark, damp, metal bars and a hard, cold floor. He could personally attest to the coldness of the floor and attempted to get up before it sapped all of his body heat.

With the deliberate movement of someone injured, the Raider lifted himself off of the floor, favoring the opposite arm and shoulder from the one that had just been acquainted with the cold ground at high speed. Getting up, he surveyed the state of his cell more closely. No bed. No bucket. No food or water. Aiden could easily infer how the rest of his stay would play out. Having watched settlers die of thirst and hunger while begging to be released from their cages, Aiden did not look forward to gain first hand experience of what that would feel like. Even though the thought of drinking his own urine did not sound very appealing, it was probably better than the alternative. But as the mayor had decided to deny him bucket privilege, there would be no way to contain any type of liquid, much less his own piss, effectively leaving that particular decision out of his hands.

Using the cell wall as support for his back, Aiden gingerly lowered himself to the ground. He embraced his knees and rested his eyes for but a moment in the hope to gain some type of clarity in regards to his situation.

He awoke to the clanging sound of someone drawing a metal bucket across the cell bars.

“Wakey wakey, sleepy head," said the mayor, using a deceptively friendly voice before he threw the bucket back in the corner behind him.

Having had little to no sleep at all, Aiden grumbled and decidedly ignored the presence of Goodneighbor’s Ghoul mayor in favor of sleep. He made himself comfortable and buried his head in his arms in an attempt to once again slumber. However, ignoring the mayor was apparently the wrong decision to make.

“Unless you have a penchant for pain, I’d suggest you pay attention when I’m talking to ya’," the Ghoul said with a slight undertone of held back anger. It was the anger that was laced in the voice that alerted his body before Aiden realised he was fully awake, and the rush of adrenaline sparked something in Aiden who visibly shivered before he could contain it.

_ The hell…? _

As soon as he felt in control of his body’s reactions, Aiden raised his eyes to glare at the Ghoul. Apparently satisfied that he had Aiden’s undivided attention the Ghoul started talking.

“You know why you’re inside this cell instead of bleeding out in a ditch outside the walls?" the Ghoul asked while he looked down at the captured Raider.

Aiden felt less inclined to play this game, especially since he in fact  _ was _ curious to why he was alive and imprisoned instead of pushing up daisies out in the barren grounds of Boston. When the silence had stretched on for too long, and the mayor’s annoyance was clearly visible on his face, Aiden decided to change the rules for this interaction.

“Yeah yeah, lemme’ guess, you ran out of bullets? No, no, no, I kno’, you needed a new house guest. The old tenant for this highly esteemed room moved on, so you figured -”

The mayor was clearly at a breaking point when he decidedly interrupted him.

“I thought I made myself clear that if you keep pulling my chain, there’d only be pain for you. You gonna take this seriously, or do I have to go in there and -"

“Yeah, and fuck you too, oh so kindly." Aiden decided to return the favour and cut off the mayor's spiel in mid sentence, to the Ghoul’s obvious chagrin. “No, I don’t know, and really, I couldn’t care less. So, if I do exactly what you tell me to do, then what?”

Aiden and got up from his seat on the floor and moved closer to the cell door before he answered his own question.

“You won’t torture me while I thirst to death? Yeah, real sweet deal there. And if I don’t listen to you, you’ll kill me before that to teach me the  _ meaning of pain _ ."

Aiden stood face to face with the Ghoul, separated only by a set of bars, as he raised his voice.

“I have a better plan. How ‘bout you shoot me now and save us both the fucking headache." 

Aiden made a grab for the knife he saw tucked in the mayor’s belt and came close to grasping it, even felt the touch of the handle with his fingertips, before the mayor managed to grab his wrist.

As a rule, Aiden tried to make it a practice not to do the same mistake twice. Just looking at Ghoul mayor could deceived anyone in regards to his true strength. The first time he underestimated him was in the store, when Aiden suddenly found himself clean off the ground and up in the air before being thrown down on his back. Even though it might not have been obvious at first, Aiden realised quickly that he had once again underestimated the Ghoul. The realisation came to Aiden as the mayor held his wrist in a vice like grip and tightened his hold, forcing the small bones to either bend or break.

Aiden was on his knees in seconds, desperately trying to free himself. Using the bars as leverage, he tried to pull his arm out of the hands of the Ghoul. He tried to hit him on his chins, or whatever he could reach from his position on the floor, and he even tried to plead with the mayor to release him. No matter what he did, the result was still the same: the grip on his wrist did not relent, it only tighten.

“Are you listening to me now?" the Ghoul asked Aiden in cold anger, while he pulled his arm upwards, effectively lifting the other man off the floor.

Aiden followed, his knees shaking as they tried to uphold his weight despite wanting nothing more than to collapse out of sheer exhaustion. Aiden howled in pain, screamed that he was listening, wanting nothing more than for the pain to end.

“Good."

The mayor suddenly released his grip on Aiden’s wrist. Aiden fell to his knees and promptly started to cradle his abused wrist.

“Name’s Hancock. You and me, we’ll have plenty of time to be properly acquainted as you’ll stay in that cage of yours ‘til I’m convinced you won’t run off and join the closest group of Raiders you can find."

Hancock brought out a pack of Gray Tortoise’s from an inner pocket of his coat, pulled one cigarette out of the package and proceeded to light it using a match. The process seemed to calm him, as was evident from the tone of voice he used during the rest of the conversation.

“The only reason you’re still breathing is because I didn’t want to litter Daisy’s floor with the insides of your head. Just as much as she don’t deserve that, you deserve that much, and worse."

Aiden stared at the ground and felt the wetness of his cheek before he realised what it was. As much as his pride had been torn asunder by pleading for mercy at the feet of the Ghoul, he still could not face Hancock knowing that the evidence of his crumbling arrogance was clearly visible on his face. 

“So the way I see it, you can hurry up and get better, stop this Raidin’ business, and turn into a proper human being. Or you’ll stay here for a long ass time, grow old and eventually die without ever seeing the light of day."

Hancock exhaled and threw the cigarette butt in the corner of the room, right next to the abandoned bucket.

“Usually, you’d have a bucket in the room. But as I don’t trust you as far as you can throw that bucket, you’re gonna need to ask nicely every time you need to relieve yourself."

“.. Fuck, you."

Hancock barely acknowledged that Aiden had spoken at all.

Aiden could understand why he was locked up. He could even see Hancock’s interest in having him off the streets of Boston. But being forced to ask permission to relieve himself was taking it too far.

Hancock made an inquisitive noise to spur Aiden to elaborate after his outburst, and after deliberating whether or not to just let it pass, Aiden decided to give voice his discontent.

“‘m not gonna ask for permission to take a piss."

“Then you’ll have to relieve yourself in that corner. It’s your loss if the place where you’ll likely spend the rest of your life smells like the backside of a Brahmin. It’s no hair of my back. We’ll just clean it out once you vacate the place, be that by your own two legs or carried out with the trash."

With that, Hancock seemed finished with the conversation and turned around to walk up the stairs. Realising that he would be left alone with just his his thoughts for company, Aiden started to panic.

“Hey!”

Hancock stopped in his step.

“Something bothering you, kid?” he asked, and turned to Aiden.

“Yeah, I need to take a leak."

Hancock snorted and continued up the stairs. When he was almost at the top, he turned to regard Aiden.

“Then you either hold it or quickly learn how to properly ask for favors," Hancock commented over his shoulder before continuing up the stairs and out of sight.

“Fucking asshole," muttered Aiden under his breath.

“I heard that," came the immediate reply from upstairs.

_ Fucking asshole! _

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-explicit mentioning of sex. Real sorry ‘bout that. How about a complimentary self-help session? No? Just me?

It took Aiden four hours to swallow his pride and ask for the bucket. The whole process was humiliating to say the least, and Aiden could almost hear Hancock laughing from his room upstairs.

Hancock had even catered to his needs and left him a blanket to sleep on.

_ Now, ain’t that thoughtful. Thoughtful and condescending, fucking piece of shit mayor. _

After surviving the most embarrassing moment of his life, one of Hancock’s henchmen brought him a bottle of water and a pack of Cram to eat, staving off both hunger and thirst for another day. But taking care of his physical needs had the backside of reminding him of his precarious situation; trapped, locked in, underground in a cellar that probably had already started to smell like mould long before the war, with absolutely nothing to do but to stare at the ceiling.

After once again recounting the number of bars, cracks, blood stains (thankfully of unknown origin) and anything else that could possibly be quantified in his line of sight, Aiden ran out of ideas on how to entertain himself. It took him less than two minutes to come to a conclusion on how to solve his problem, to effectively save him from his imminent demise by boredom.

“Hancock!” Aiden shouted at the top of his lungs. The commotion caused by the sudden outburst was quite amusing to watch, as the entire upper floor tried to locate the source of Aiden’s distress.

Aiden was waiting by the bars when Hancock finally made his appearance, taking stock of Aiden’s seemingly healthy countenance.

“You ill?" he asked as he hurried down the stairs, rapidly decreasing the distance between him and the Raider’s cell.

“I think I’m dying," Aiden answered in, what he would consider, a truthful way.

Although he might confess it to be slightly exaggerated considering the situation, boredom was usually what made people the most dangerous. If one of the Raiders found nothing to occupy themselves with, it could potentially result in massive bloodshed. Settlers, Gunners, Ferrals, no target was safe from the chaotic bloodlust of a Raider jacked up on psycho, all in attempt to stave off boredom. Not even the Raiders themselves were safe if one of their own submitted to their bloodlust. It was a lesson Aiden had learned the hard way through Colborn Crackers. He was never the same after he accidently cracked his head as a result of taking one too many chems. Or rather after Bullet Tooth Jarrett had swung his bat at Colborn’s head in self defence.

Hancock, however, did not buy it.

“Really," he asked in a most disbelieving tone, still trying to assess Aiden’s health on account of earlier outburst.

Aiden rolled his eyes before answering.

“Yes, really," he answered while he leaned his head on the metal bars. “I’m dying. It’s terminal. If you don’t cough up some entertainment, I’ll be dead within the hour."

Obviously peeved, Hancock looked up towards the ceiling as if the answer to all and everything would somehow be written there.

“Un-fucking-believable," he muttered, and again turned his attention towards Aiden, giving him The Look of Disapprovement (capital letters and all). “You scream like a banshee, making everyone think that we’re somehow under attack because, what, you’re bored?”

“I don’ think you’re taking this seriously," Aiden interjected.

“Oh, I’m taking this seriously. I am doubtful that you are though. This here -" Hancock said while he demonstratively kicked the bars of the holding cell. “- is not a hotel room. It’s a prison, a cage, whatever term you feel is more appropriate. Not a fucking taphouse. That means you don’t get room service just because you cry  _ Deathclaw _ . You bored? Go to sleep, eat, I don’t care. Whatever you decide to do, do it on your own," he said, efficiently ending the conversation before heading up the stairs.

“Wait!” Aiden exclaimed in an attempt to stop Hancock from leaving.

It did stop Hancock, but the Ghoul mayor of Goodneighbor did not look pleased. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and gestured for Aiden to continue whatever he was about to say.

Unfortunately for Aiden, he had not thought that far ahead.

“Ehhh, so, ummm, how are things, idunno, going?" Aiden asked timidly, while scraping his boot through the dirt on the floor.

Hancock sighed in exasperation. 

“Look kid, I won’t do this dance with you. If you need help, I’ll help. But I won’t tolerate you calling on me for the sake of your  _ entertainment _ ," he spat the word out like it tasted foul. “You’ve got what you need. Go to sleep," he ended the conversation and walked back up the stairs without a backwards glance.

That again left Aiden to his own devises.

_ Aaaand, still bored. _

With a huge sigh he decided to take a nap, his decision not in the slightest influenced by Hancock’s suggestion.

_ I don’t need him! I can think of my own ideas! _

Aiden pulled the blanket up to his chin before settling down.

_ Fuck, not tired enough. I’m never going to go to sleep at this - _

Aiden awoke to the sound of voices upstairs. A female voice that laughed at every other sentence spoken by her male counterpart. It took a few moments to recognise the male voice as Hancock’s, and after listening more closely, it sounded as if he was inebriated.

_ Huh. Didn’t know Ghouls could get drunk. _

Not feeling up for speculating the amount of booze it would take for a Ghoul to get wasted, Aiden turned around in order to go back to sleep. Just as sleep was about to claim him, he heard the tell-tale sound of a woman moaning. He went from tired to soberly awake in the matter of seconds, listening closely to what was happening upstairs.

_ They’re not doing what I think they’re doing, are they? _

The female was intermittently joined by a male grunting, and unless Aiden was not mistaken, she sounded thoroughly pleased. The sounds she was making got from loud to louder during the period of time he had been listening.

_ How does this not wake the entire house? _

It took him some time to notice that the sound was coming from directly above him, explaining why he had awoken so quickly, and perhaps why not the entire house was up looking for the female ghost currently howling in the Old State House. Hancock was not using his office, but a small side room on the ground floor for entertaining his nightly visitor.

Aiden listened to the their sounds for a while longer before again attempting to fall asleep. After Aiden had closed his eyes, a thought came to him unbidden.

_ He must be very good at what he does to induce her to sound like that. _

While the rest of the affair had left Aiden rather unfazed, that thought alone made him flush crimson before he felt the telltale stirring of arousal in his gut.

_ Come ON! Get a grip, Aiden! _

He tried to will his beginning hard-on to go down, trying to think of anything but the sounds surrounding him. But as the sounds bouncing of the walls got ever so louder, thinking of anything but what was happening upstairs, was progressively getting more difficult.

While he could, from an entirely objective standpoint, admit that Hancock had a certain appeal (disregarding his irradiated exterior), it would not possess Aiden to ever consider the possibility of jumping into bed with the man. So, sure he was lithe and possessed the moves of a lethal predator, probably possessed the strength to lift a small mutant, and blessed with a gravelly voice that could make lesser men and women drop to their knees just to gain his boon. Even though he could unbiased observe these qualities, did not mean Aiden was attracted to him. Just speculating on what Hancock could do with that strength, he would probably be able to lift him up on his hips and press him against the closest wall in order to -

_ Whoa whoa whoa! Not going to go there! _

The cacophony of sounds coming from upstairs did nothing to diminish his growing need. The blanket felt sticky against his skin, and the entire room felt way too hot. He wanted nothing else than to sneak a hand below and finish himself. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of Hancock somehow finding out what he had done.

_ That smug asshole would never let me live it down. _

The sound of male grunting efficiently stopped Aiden’s inner monologue while still fanning the flames of arousal. His pants were starting to get unbearably tight.

_ Fuck it. He won’t find out. I mean, how could he? After all, I’m not gonna try to compete with the sounds they’re making. _

Aiden pulled his pants down and quickly grabbed himself to relieve some of the tension, giving himself a couple of experimental strokes. Just the feeling of his hand after denying himself was enough to make his toes curl.

_ Shit, this is not gonna take long. _

He carefully listened to the rhythm the couple above had set, and tried to mimic it to the best of his abilities. As expected, it did not take him long to reach that telltale edge. Aiden listened closely and could hear that the enamored pair upstairs were rushing towards their ends as well.

The female came first in a howling scream, and if Aiden had thought more closely about it, he might have been upset to find that her climax did nothing for him. As it was, he was too busy riding his own pleasure to even consider it. He was close, just at the brink, but he needed something more, something else, to give him that one last push.

Just as he thought it, the low and gravelly baritone of Hancock’s climax drifted down from the bedroom upstair. The voice went straight through him and immediately triggered his own. Biting down on the blanket to avoid being heard by his temporary neighbours, his entire body tensed in pleasure as white lights sparked behind his eyelids. Gasping for breath, Aiden came down from his high and felt the nagging feeling of having done something really inappropriate. But as soon as the voices upstairs got quiet, Aiden’s body relaxed in contentment before he could finally fall into deep sleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Up and rise, sunshine."

Aiden awoke to the impertinently happy voice of one Ghoul mayor. He opened one eye to glance at his nemesis before closing it. However tempting it was to ignore him and go back to sleep, the memory of the earlier wrist crushing session was still clear in his mind (residue pain making it difficult to forget). He again glanced at the Ghoul only to notice that he brandished a ridiculously cheerful grin.

_ Yeah, ‘course  _ he’s _ happy. _

Grouchy and tired, Aiden tried to slowly rise from bed, stretching his muscles to persuade them to cooperate. Moving had the unfortunate side effect of reminding him of what happened before he fell asleep. Feeling the sticky residue of last nights adventure, Aiden felt his cheek heat up.

_ Yeah, and that happened. _

Aiden bemoaned his predicament and hid his face in his hands in an attempt to gather his thoughts, praying that Hancock would not notice his rosy cheeks in the darkness of the cell. Silently compelling his blush to recede, he suddenly felt two objects land at the edge of his makeshift bedroll.

“Come on, up and get. I even brought you breakfast," said Hancock and unlocked the door to Aiden’s cell.

Aiden carefully snuck a peek between his fingers to inspect the two food items next to him; a box of Sugar Bombs and a bottle of purified water. Deliberating for the entirety of two seconds, Aiden opened the package of Sugar Bombs and proceeded to stuff his face with the sugary cereal, pausing only to swallow it down with mouthfuls of water.

“Were you perchance called ‘Gluttonous Bucket’ amongst your Raider buddies?”

Aiden stopped eating for the timespan it took for him to give Hancock a questioning look, before he presumed his feeding activity.

Hancock appeared a bit miffed by the lack of response, but did not make a deal out of it. “Look, you’re inhaling the food. I’m not gonna take it away from you, if that’s what you’re anxious about. Eat up, just don’t choke on it," he said and relaxed himself against the cell wall opposite Aiden, positioning himself between him and the door.

Somewhat perplexed, Aiden continued to eat but complied to the Ghoul’s request, stuffing his face at a slower pace than before. Swallowing down what he had in his mouth, he looked up at Hancock.

“It’s Aiden."

“What is?" Hancock asked.

“My name. It’s Aiden, Black Eyed Aiden."

“Aiden. That’s a nice name," said Hancock and smiled carefully.

_ What the hell does that mean? _

Aiden stared pointedly at Hancock until he appeared to give up on trying to compliment him. Hancock raised his hands placatingly as Aiden went back to his cereal-icious breakfast.

“Why ‘Black Eyed’? Your eyes aren’t black."

Aiden snorted.

“Yeah, now ain’t that a mystery," he answered, grabbed handfuls of cereal and shoved them into his mouth.

Aiden continued to eat while Hancock silently regarded him.

“So," said Hancock, breaking the silence. “I was thinking, if we want to rehabilitate you, you’re gonna need to see how we make things work on our side of the fence."

Aiden nearly choked on the cereal in his mouth before he quickly swallowed them down.

“You know that bein’ a Raider ain’t actually an  _ illness _ , right?" Aiden asked incredulously.

Hancock raised one of his non-existent eyebrows. “Yeah, your point being?”

Gathering courage for what could possibly end in a rowdy discussion, Aiden sighed deeply. “That there’s no need for  _ rehabilitating _ me. Slitting people’s throats ain’t an addiction, and neither’s grabbing food from settlers or shooting folks in their heads. You don’t  _ cure _ people from being Raiders. It’s not somethin’ you  _ get better  _ from.”

Hancock crossed his arms over his chest before he chose to comment Aiden’s statement.

“So, you’re a lost cause then. That’s what you’re saying?" asked Hancock, his earlier happy mood all but forgotten.

Realising that he was standing on loose ground in this debate, Aiden tried to rethink how he was going answer without causing Hancock to regret not shooting him when he had the chance. Not that bringing out the old shooter in the cell was in any way impossible.

Aiden took another deep breath and let it out before continuing.

“What I’m saying is, that if you think you can  _ fix _ me, then you’re going about this the wrong way. I ain’t broken. I never was broken to begin with.”

Aiden could see from where he was sitting on the ground how Hancock’s eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t say you were," Hancock defended himself. “What I’m saying is -"

“That I need  _ rehabilitation _ to  _ cure me _ from this ailment called ‘Raider’," Aiden cut in.

Hancock sighed exasperated, gingerly massaging his temples with his hands as if he tried to prevent a migraine.

_ I wonder, do Ghouls get migraines? _

“Tell me something, Aiden," Hancock began, interrupting Aiden’s wandering thoughts. “If I let you out that door right now, what would be the first thing you do?”

Devouring the last of his Sugar Bombs, Aiden no longer had the food to preoccupy himself with, forcing him to instead fully focus on the conversation. He contemplated his answer and ultimately decided to be as ambiguous as possible.

“I’d buy a gun," was his short and brief response.

_ That should be vague enough. _

“And why’s that?" Hancock asked.

Aiden raised his shoulder in a nonchalant gesture, not interested in divulging his original plans to the Ghoul. Hancock did not seem to be in the least surprised by Aiden’s non-verbal answer to his question.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess here. When you have that gun in your hand, you’re first line of action won’t be to set up a farm at the first piece of land you find, is it?" Hancock asked condescendingly.

Aiden refused to respond to Hancock’s attempt at riling him up, and preferred to let Hancock finish his rant before commenting. Hancock probably did not expect an answer to begin with and continued to speak without pause.

“No, what I think will happen, is that as soon as you have that gun, you’re gonna walk right up to the first group of Raiders that does not immediately shoot your head off, and ask to let you join them. Then, one month from now, I’ll again be faced with the decision of shooting you with your pants down, or allowing you to pull them up before I pull the trigger. And mark my words, this time I’m not gonna hesitate or allow you the time to throw me off. Unfortunately, that would not happen before you and your new buddies have made life a living hell for settlers and other people that are doing their best just trying to survive out in the ‘wealth. What’d you think, how close am I?”

Preferring to stay quiet, Aiden continued to stare silently at the Ghoul, careful to keep a neutral expression on his face. Hancock sighed.

“As long as you prioritise the second choice above the first, I’m not letting you out of my sight. There are enough assholes out there to go around. Removing you from the mix means there’s one less trouble maker out there causing other people to suffer."

As soon as Hancock was finished with his speech, the room fell into a tense silence. Both stared at each other, turning the silence into a competition of  _ who will break first _ . Unsurprisingly, that would be Aiden.

“I get it," Aiden replied when the quiet became too much. Hancock’s non-believing expression forced Aiden to elaborate. “I get that you don’t want to have part in me walking out in the Commonwealth and messing with your friends. I get it.”

“So you promise to stop with the whole raiding business?" asked Hancock with a skeptical but hopeful expression.

Aiden opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated. Hancock immediately interpreted the hesitance as a negative response to the question he asked, shook his head and proceeded to walk out of the cell.

Closing the door behind him, Hancock turned around to give Aiden a disappointed look.

“Why do I even bother with you?”

_ Ouch. Yeah, ok, that hurt. _

Aiden suspected the question to be rhetorical and left it at that. Careful not to show what he was feeling, he looked away from the door. After one last sigh, Hancock left and walked up the stairs.

Drawing his knees up and burying his head in his arms, Aiden groaned at the complicated situation.

_ I wonder, would he have believed me if I’d told him I’ve wanted out since the day he almost shot me? _

Aiden leaned back on the wall behind him and prepared himself for another dull day.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Hancock did not show up for the rest of the day, or the next one, or the one after that. Four days after the argument, Hancock left the Old State House.

_ Come on, Hancock, you’re like, what? 200 years old? Shouldn’t you be used to disappointment by now? _

Trying to scrape off paint from the wall, he soon realised the pointlessness of his endeavour. And with nothing else to occupy his time, Aiden made it his sole purpose to annoy the living hell out of the Neighborhood Watch that were currently guarding the ground floor entrance.

He started small by calling on the guards at opportune moments, claiming to have forgotten what he wanted when one of them appeared. After having repeated this for five consecutive times (and after the guards had started to ignore him), Aiden upped his ante.

Using an old package of Cram left in his cell, he started to draw it across the bars that separated him from the hallway. The ruckus echoed horrendously throughout the house, until one of the guards apparently had, had enough and forcibly removed the object from his hands.

With his latest distraction apparatus lost, Aiden was at the end of his wit. 

Back when Aiden was still going through his hazing period with his first Raider gang, his baptised name had nearly been Aiden the Tonedeaf. After having heard him sing during one of their watches, Desiree Smokes had proceeded to gag him with her scarf to spare the other Raiders in the camp a fate, she had claimed, to be worse than death. Desiree was otherwise not afraid of anything. Anything beside becoming deaf through the unstoppable power of Aiden’s voice.

Clearing his throat, Aiden proceeded to take a few light tones, and backed that up with his entire repertoire of notes that he could muster (meaning all five of them), to perform his ingenious interpretation of the radio hit song ‘Undecided’.

“Who’s trying to strangle a cat?" came the response from somewhere upstairs, just before a guard, holding up both hands to cover his ears, came rushing down the stairs.

“Shut, the fuck up before I come in there and -"

The rest of the sentence went unheard as Aiden raised his voice to prepare for the chorus, and drowned out whatever the guard was about to say.

“Stop! Just, just fucking stop!"

The guard’s request went unheeded by Aiden who continued his single audience concert without pause.

He did not stop until something hard hit him in the back of his head. Looking towards the door, Aiden was surprised to see that it was still closed, until he noticed a brown (probably colored differently in the past), hand-sized ball. Bending over, Aiden picked it up and gave it a experimental throw.

_ This works. _

“Will you please, just stop bothering us. Just stop," the upstairs guard, who was probably the culprit behind the thrown projectile, pleaded with Aiden before he went back to his earlier task of looking tough. The other guard in front of the cell let out a breath of relief before he too joined the upstairs guard in his important guarding business.

The rest of the afternoon was spent throwing the ball at the opposite wall, and catching it as it bounced back.

It was late afternoon when Hancock returned to the Old State House.

Aiden heard the commotion before he saw it, and for once waited patiently for Hancock to come down the stairs. Fortunately, he was not disappointed.

After every even and odd ‘welcome back’ had been said and done, Aiden heard Hancock walk down the stairs to the cellar-turned-dungeon. He pretended to be enraptured in his ball catching and consequently ignored Hancock’s entrance.

“Where’d you find that," Hancock asked in a likely attempt to lighten the uneasy mood that had set between them.

“It jus’ came to me. T’was predestined," Aiden’s non-answer came as naturally as breathing, while he continued his throw-catch rhythm.

“You know, you’re awfully well-spoken for a Raider."

That made Aiden pause, and he fumbled before he caught the ball.

_ Was that a compliment? _

He spun the ball in his hands a couple of times before he shifted his attention to Hancock.

“On what’d you base that assumption? You often converse with the local Raiders?”

Hancock appeared to consider his answer carefully before he spoke.

“No, but I’d doubt most Raiders use the same words you do, if they’d even understand them. And from the ones I’ve heard, they usually use a vocabulary based around mangling, bloodshed and murder.”

Aiden let out a noncommittal sound before he again bounced the ball at the now abused wall.

“No, I think you’re confusing us with Super Mutants. You know, those tall and green creatures, communicating mainly using three to five word sentences, occasional grunts and growls?”

A grin was clearly visible on Hancock’s face before he used the backside of his hand to try to hide it. It gave Aiden an unexpected feeling of accomplishment, that he had actually managed to make the Ghoul lose a bit of his composure. A feeling of elation that he quickly tried to quelsh. 

“That’d be like me basing the charisma of the each and every member of the Neighborhood watch on Melvin’s continuous attempts at flirting using different configurations of being  _ both a lover and a fighter _ . Has that  _ ever _ worked?” asked Aiden with exaggerated outrage.

That cracked Hancock up, who snorted before he turned away from Aiden to regain his composure. It brought a smile to Aiden’s face, which he again quickly tried to hide as the mayor turned back.

“Ok, point made," said Hancock with a silly smile on his face, one that he had not managed to suppress. A smile that made Aiden’s heart skip a beat.

_ No, no, no, come on, get it together, Aiden! _

Clearing his throat, Aiden decided to hand the man a bone.

“Look, I know that your views differ greatly from mine in terms of appropriate livelihood and social etiquette," said Aiden and glanced in Hancock’s direction.

The earlier easy mood between them had started to strain a little, but Hancock did not look as if he was about give him a piece of his mind.

“Contrary to popular beliefs, I wasn’t actually born a Raider. My ma’ and pa’ taught me to read. So, at times, if I’d happen’ across anything bound and printed, I’d read it," said Aiden, averted his eyes and self consciously scratched the back of his head.

With every crowd that Aiden had joined, he had to hide his literary interest in pure self-preservation, as to avoid scorn or even expulsion. People liked to think that they were the most intelligent person in the room, and that opinion seemed universal no matter location or social setting. Even though Aiden did not know if Hancock were of the same opinion, he still felt a bit uncomfortable talking about it.

Aiden looked away to avoid making eye contact. Even if there was no way of confirming it, Aiden could just imagine Hancock’s condemning stare, and even that imaginary gaze made him want to squirm. 

“Huh, good to know," said Hancock using a lighthearted tone.

Convinced that he must have imagined the response (and the intonation), Aiden turned to regards Hancock, only to be met with Hancock’s approval. 

“Tell you what, I’ll look around to see if there’s something for you to read. That way, it will hopefully keep ya’ from annoying my guards into lunacy next time you’re  _ bored _ ," said Hancock, strongly hinting that he had heard of Aiden’s earlier coup from the upstair watch. 

Aiden ducked down before Hancock would be able to spot the light blush on his cheeks.

_ Serves them right. And suits  _ you _ for ignoring me. _

Thinking that the conversation was concluded, Aiden went back to practice his pitch throw at the other wall, and waited for the sound of footsteps walking over the stone floor to indicate that Hancock was leaving. When Hancock instead opened the cell door, it threw Aiden off, completely disrupting his flow. He missed the catch and the ball ricocheted off of the wall behind Aiden before it bounced and rolled towards the open door where Hancock stood.

“As exciting as that looks -" said Hancock, picked up the ball at his feet and threw it to land on Aiden’s blanket bedroll. “- you need a change of scenery."

Aiden’s confusion must have been visible on his face, as Hancock rolled his eyes before he walked to stand right next to him, offered his hand, and then proceeded to help Aiden up on his feet.

Hancock turned to leave, clearly expecting Aiden to follow without question, which Aiden was not opposed to. However, as they reached the staircase, Hancock suddenly stopped and pointedly smelled the air.

“Kid, when was the last time you took a bath?”

_ E-excuse me? Really? And how, the fuck, can he even smell  _ anything _ with  _ that _ nose? _

Aiden scoffed due to the sheer absurdity of the question.

“Yeah, apologies, but the ensuite bathroom was unfortunately out of order. Should I mention that to the reception before we head out?”

Hancock just chortled, grabbed Aiden by the shoulder and shoved him in front.

“Just walk, smartass."

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added a tag for Recreational Drug Use, which is depicted late in this chapter.
> 
> (If this is starting to sound like a changelog, know that it's unintended)

The feeling of scrubbing yourself clean from several layers of dirt and grime after it had accumulated for a long period of time, could perhaps best be likened to a celibate man ending his vow of abstinence by being on the receiving end of a dirty blowjob; the experience both reinvigorating and overwhelming. At this point, it was almost like peeling away memories instead of just old layers of skin.

Aiden had not been this clean in years. When there was no steady supply of water, regular washes was just one bullet point of many in a long list of necessities that had to be fulfilled. When the chance for you to be killed tomorrow was equally as high as the possibility of you having something to eat, having clean fingernails was the least of your worries. Nonetheless, it felt nice when and if it eventually happened.

He rinsed his hair for the third time and was quickly running out of skin and hair to clean. Still no word from Hancock. Hancock had just pointed him towards the room that had been repurposed as a washingroom, instructed him where everything was and how everything worked, before he hurried off. And that was a good half an hour ago.

Being restless (and figuring that his skin would not be able to handle another cleansing), Aiden used the rest of the time to wash and rinse his clothes.

Squatting naked by a simple washboard and bucket, with his back turned towards the door, is (of course) how Hancock would find him when he returned, preceded only by a short knock before the washroom door opened.

“You done?" said Hancock, seemingly indifferent to Aiden’s lack of attire.

Aiden stopped breathing, preferring to stand stock still than to turn around to either acknowledge the Ghoul’s presence or answer his question. Pretending that the interruption never happened was easier than to accept that the Ghoul had just seen his ass in all its naked glory. So he continued to wash his clothes in the makeshift wash basin, as if the mayor was not still standing in the doorway waiting for some type of response.

The sound of the door closing made Aiden breathe a deep sigh of relief. Unfortunately a little bit too soon.

“You don’t need to wash those. I brought you some new threads."

Aiden startled. “Fuck! There’s a thing called ‘privacy’, ever heard of it?" Aiden threw over his shoulder.

You could have heard a pin drop in the quiet that followed, the silence almost palpable. Until it was broken by Hancock scoffing.

“You know, I have a hard time believing ‘privacy’ was a big thing where you’re from.”

_ Yeah, ok, that’s true, but it still doesn’t allow you to walk in just like you own - ok, that’s the wrong metaphor - _

“You shy, Aiden?”

Aiden was flabbergasted. “No, no. Why, why would I be? Shy, that is," Aiden stuttered in panic, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. He continued to wash his clothes to have something else to do, than to be called out on his obvious attempt to avoid looking in Hancock’s direction. Although in his nervousness, he was using a lot more force than earlier when trying to get his clothes clean, causing water to splash over the edge of the bucket.

_ I’m not shy. Can’t I just have a problem with people staring at me while I’m fucking naked? _

“Nothin’ wrong with being shy. Although, if it makes you feel better, you’ve got nothing that I haven’t seen before."

_ It really, really, really does  _ not _ make me feel better.  _

Giving up on trying to get the mayor to leave the room, Aiden went back to the task of ignoring him.

The clothes Aiden was currently washing was too wet to wear, leaving the only other option of getting dressed in the clothes Hancock had with him. Which meant he had to turn around and find the clothes, get up and walk there, and then dress himself, all in front of Hancock.

Steeling himself, Aiden glanced around to locate the outfit Hancock had brought, only to discover that the Ghoul mayor was still carrying a bundle of fabric, most likely being the earlier offered clothing.

Aiden sighed in despair.

Well, as they say, nothing ventured nothing gained. “So, ummm, thanks for the clothes. You can just leave them by the door on your way out," said Aiden, hoping that Hancock would get the message and dismiss himself.

No such luck, apparently. Hancock just chuckled under his breath.

“You’ve got nothing to be modest for. But fine, I’ll leave you alone.”

Aiden heard rustling as Hancock put the clothes down and started towards the hallway door, finally opening the door to exit the washroom. Just as Hancock was about to close the door, he stopped. “Oh, and nice ass, by the way."

“Fuck off, Hancock," Aiden said, the earlier blush coming back with a vengeance.

Laughing, Hancock closed the door and walked away.

_ Fucking asshole. _

When he was, at last, alone in the washing room, Aiden went about getting himself dressed.

Having hung his clothes up to dry after getting dressed, Aiden walked out of the washroom. Directed by a guard on where to go, he made his way to Hancock’s office on the first floor of the Old State House.

He entered a room that more closely resembled a drug den than an actual office. The main piece in the room being a table filled with a wide assortment of stimulants, opiates and everything else that came in a bottle, chart or canister.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely," said Hancock from his position lounged on one of the couches. Aiden’s cheeks immediately felt warm, which he did his best to ignore.

Opposite of him sat a guy in a blue Vault suit, with standard issue, high quality, slightly used leather boots.

The memory of sitting crouched down in a food cupboard, waiting for his impending doom, flashed before Aiden’s eyes.

_ Blue pants, tucked in leather boots. _

“I don’t believe we have met," said the guy and got up to shake hands with Aiden, introducing himself. “Nate. Pleasure to meet you."

_ How does one say: ‘I wouldn’t be fucking breathing if it weren’t for you’, in one word or less? _

“Aiden, and likewise," said Aiden and shook Nate’s hand in return.

Aiden turned to Hancock, and to his surprise was met with a pair of black eyes. Hancock’s eyes were reflecting his own earlier thoughts, but he held an otherwise blank expression. From his countenance alone, Aiden could not determine whether Hancock’s opinion regarding his apparent survival was either in the positive or negative spectrum.

_ The Judge might still be undecided on that one, yet. _

“I take it you’re sitting this one out then, Hancock?" asked Nate, effectively breaking the somewhat stale atmosphere that had settled.

Hancock seemed subtly startled from his thoughts before he turned to the Vaultie. “Yeah, mayoral duties and all that. You got someone else to watch your back?”

“I was thinking about asking MacCready if he was up for a bit of action. He usually don’t mind tagging along, as long as I don’t plan on being too reckless."

“Good. You need someone to keep ya’ out of trouble," said Hancock in a flirting manner.

Rather unbidden, Aiden felt a bit miffed about Hancock’s behavior.

_ Does he do that with everyone? I mean, not that it’s any of my business. _

Nate just waved Hancock’s concerns away. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere particularly unsafe, or far away for that matter. Should be back in a couple of days," he said as he got up from the couch.

Hancock hummed in acknowledgement. “Stay safe then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t."

Nate let out a laugh. “Well, that doesn’t leave much out."

As Nate passed Aiden’s, he suddenly grabbed onto his shoulder and stared him right in the eyes. “Don’t let Hancock push you around too much, kid," said Nate, giving him a meaningful shake and a pat on the back, before letting go and then continued to walk out the door.

Somewhat shocked of his unexpected behaviour, Aiden followed the man’s departure with his eyes, before Hancock cleared his throat, effectively causing him to shifting his attention back to the Ghoul.

“If you keep looking at Sole’s ass like that, I might get jealous," Hancock said in a deceivingly light-hearted tone, making Aiden unsure whether he was actually serious or not.

“I wasn’t-”

“I’m sure you weren’t," he interrupted, again in an ambiguous tone of voice. “Just get over here," said Hancock and motioned for him to sit next to him on the couch.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Aiden stiffly crossed the room and walked over to the couch.

“Any ride of choice?" he said while Aiden made himself comfortable.

“Not really.”

That made Hancock pause.

“Really? Huh. I figured you’d at least have some experience with psycho or buffout."

“Sure I do, but I’ve got no favorites. We used to do psycho at times, and Jet at others, but I was never picky, and it never became a habit," said Aiden and suddenly found a Jet canister in his lap before he had finished his sentence.

“Jet it is then," said Hancock and grabbed a couple of mentats for himself.

Lifting the canister to take a closer look at its contents, he heard Hancock swallow the mentats dry. Not being one to draw it out, Aiden bit down on the mouthpiece and pushed the button to activate the cannister. 

At first, Aiden felt the familiar feeling of his lungs constricting with the chemical they were suddenly forced to accept in substitute of air. But after the initial discomfort, the sensation of absolute elation was quickly spreading throughout his entire body. Sounds were distorted as if being far away, and movement felt slow as if he was entirely submerged in water. His surroundings slowed down as his perception seemed to speed up. Every detail was both clear and blurred at the same time, and every nerve in his body was hypersensitive. For once, Aiden allowed himself to just sit back and feel.

That was when he felt a coarse hand carding through the sensitive hair of his neck, causing his whole body to shiver in pleasure. Closing his eyes, Aiden leaned towards the hand in a silent request for more. The hand continued to comb his newly washed hair, grazing his scalp with its fingertips while Aiden almost purred in contentment. Every part of his body conveyed delight, and he never wanted it to end.

Aiden never noticed when the Jet high abated.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theres a small side-quest spoiler if you don’t know who Whitechapel Charlie’s (bartender of the Third Rail) secret employer is in the quest “The Cleaner”. Otherwise I'll try to avoid spoilers.

Aiden stirred, awoken by the sound of hushed voices, feeling both comfortable and content. The warm feeling of sleepiness did nothing to prompt him to either open his eyes or move from his current position.

“... none of the scouts have returned," said a female voice, who Aiden recognised as have given instructions to the guards at one point or another.

“That’s ominous," answered Hancock. His voice sounded considerably closer than hers had. “Any ideas?”

“I suggest we inform people to avoid the gallery all together until further notice. I’d rather not lose more men than I have to."

Aiden carefully opened his eyes, and was met with a close-up of the mayor’s neck. Somewhat disoriented, he quickly realised that the warm comfortable pillow he had been resting his head on was actually a red-clad shoulder.

“Think he’s waking up," said Hancock.

“Then we’ll continue this discussion at a later date," the woman concluded, effectively ending the conversation.

“Talk to you later, Fahr."

Fahr, or Fahrenheit if Aiden remembered her name correctly, walked out of the room and closed the doors behind her.

“Sleep well, sunshine?” asked Hancock with a soft voice, using a hand to trace the contour of his neck up to the hairline before he put back a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

Aiden felt the responding shiver through his entire body all the way down to his toes, and proceeded to hide his rising blush by burying his head in Hancock’s coat, silently groaning in mortification.

_ Fuuuuuuck. So, very, very, fucking awkward. _

Not only had he fallen asleep after a single hit of jet (like a rookie), he had apparently in his drowsiness thought the mayor to be an ideal mattress, and then slept like a child clinging to the Ghoul like a he was his favorite teddy bear. And now, he could not even suppress his base reaction to a simple touch. Embarrassment did not even begin to cover the range of emotions currently raging through Aiden’s body.

He could both hear and feel Hancock’s light laughter rumbling through his chest. Apparently

reassured by Aiden’s reaction, he continued to caress his neck and scalp using the tip of his fingers.

It had been such a long time since anyone had touched him with any intentions other than that of animosity or violence. The novelty of feeling someone carefully stroke his hair and neck left him reeling. At Hancock’s attentive touch, feeling both vulnerable and sheltered, every wall he had ever built crumbled, and it still left him wanting for more. Aiden could not think of it as anything but ridiculous.

The feeling of wanting to run and hide in embarrassment was strongly conflicting with the urge to stay where he was; relaxed and half splayed over the mayor while being a content recipient of Hancock’s unceasing ministrations.

As ‘not moving’ required less effort than the former option, Aiden once again relaxed into the Ghoul’s careful touch.

_ You’re so fucking weak, Aiden. _

Berating himself inside his head, Aiden once again groaned into the red fabric, a sound somewhere in between miserable and appeased.

“You uncomfortable?" asked Hancock, ever thoughtful.

Aiden just slowly shook his head, still with his face buried in Hancock’s shoulder.

They laid there for a while, Hancock carefully combing through Aiden’s tresses, and Aiden hiding his face in Hancock’s chest. But as is the lot of life, all things, good or bad, must eventually come to an end.

“As much as I enjoy listening to you purr, kitten, I have a couple of errands to run," said Hancock, and then promptly removed his hand from the sensitive skin of Aiden’s neck.

Giving out a short groan of displeasure before having the mind to silence it, Aiden got up and off of the mayor, allowing Hancock to get up from his earlier position on the couch.

With the physical distance restored between, Aiden’s entire repository of feelings of mortification was brought back in force.

_ Uuuuuuuuuuugh, the fuck, am I doing? Get a fucking grip, Aiden. _

Not daring to meet the Ghoul’s eyes, Aiden proceeded to have a staring competition with the floor, trying to contain the urge to tear the hair from his head.

“Yeah, I’ll just..." Aiden trailed off, not really looking forward to spending more time in his cell.

_ When did it become  _ my _ cell, and not just  _ a _ cell? _

Aiden got up from the couch and without another glance in Hancock’s direction, started to walk in the direction of the stairs. He was quickly stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“As much as I boast that I have the best view in this town -" said Hancock and used his hold to turn Aiden around. “- this wasn’t exactly what I thought of when I dragged you out of that cell." Hancock tried to meet Aiden’s gaze, while Aiden did anything to avoid it.

“So, unless you have something better to do with your time -" Hancock said in a way that conveyed that he was very doubtful that would be the case. “- you feel like keeping me company?”

The relief Aiden felt at not having to go back to the cell, well, not right away at least, must have been written on his face, as Hancock just gave him a smile and then walked past him.

“Come on, those errands won’t run themselves," he said, his back turned to Aiden, as he walked down the stairs.

Aiden was still in a bit of a daze, and took a couple of more moments to gather himself before he rushed to catch up to the Ghoul.

Well outside of the Old State House, Aiden took time to just breathe in the stagnant, downtown Boston air for the first time in almost a week. The sun was setting and was no longer visible over the ruins of the old highrise buildings, bathing the ground in a sort of half-shadow light that would soon turn into darkness as the night deepened.

A shrill whistle drew Aiden’s attention to the mayor, waiting for him in an ally further down the road.

“Took you long enough," said Hancock when Aiden caught up.

“Yeah, sorry, I haven’t had the time to keep up with my fitness training in the apartment I’ve been staying at," said Aiden a bit winded.

Hancock just turned around, tossing a comment that sounded suspiciously like ‘smartass’ over his shoulder, before starting to walk towards The Third Rail.

The Third Rail was just starting to come to life for the evening, and would no doubt be bustling with activity as soon as the sun had properly set. As it was, most of tables were still empty of customers, except a few who were occupied by what appeared to be The Rails more regular patrons.

Hancock led them towards the counter, currently manned by a floating Mr. Handy.

“‘ello Mayor Hancock,” the Mr. Handy greeted, while polishing a drinking glass to a mirror sheen. “Know those rats in the walls you’ve been complaining about? ‘s been taken care of.”

“The what-now?" said Hancock, appearing to be genuinely confused as to what the robot was referring to.

“Rodents. The ones that ‘ad taken up residence in the ol’ warehouses ‘round town? Our ever ‘elpful Vault dweller took the time to perform a bit of extermination on our behalf. Mighty useful bloke, that is.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that. So, Sole managed to clean out the warehouses?”

“Clean as ever."

“Great. I’ll remember to thank him next time he drops by. Aiden, think you can get us a table?" said Hancock and gestured to a partially secluded area of the room.

Aiden did a sloppy salute before he headed over to the referred to area. Hancock continued to speak to the Mr. Handy for another couple of minutes before he headed over to Aiden, carrying a beer in each hand.

“Thirsty?”

“Always," answered Aiden as he was handed a cold Gwinnett Pilsner.

As Aiden proceeded to take a couple of swigs from his beer, Hancock made himself comfortable on the seat next to him.

“Business concluded, then?” asked Aiden as Hancock had started to drink his own beer.

“Yup," answered Hancock, not forthcoming with any other information. As Hancock obviously did not feel like divulging any details, and Aiden did not feel like it was any of his business to pry, he gracefully dropped the subject.

“So, you usually travel with that Vault guy?”

Hancock seemed to ponder his answer, taking another mouthful of beer before he shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes. I usually tag along when he’s causing trouble in the local area.”

Aiden hummed in affirmative, signalling that Hancock should continue talking. The Ghoul just scoffed.

“If you wanna hear some wild tale of our adventures, than I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“Yet, you’re the only one here," Aiden tried to persuade Hancock to continue, who just continued to shake his head, although still smiling.

“This ain’t story time, kid."

Playing the disappointed drunk, Aiden blew a raspberry.

“Come on."

“Heh, keep trying, kid," said Hancock before they were interrupted by a Ghoul woman appearing next to their table, looking nervous and with a slight tremble to her step.

“Oh, hey, mayor. I-I’m sorry, but I haven’t got the money yet, but I’ll -”

Hancock’s persona went from ‘relaxed drinking-buddy’ to ‘Goodneighbor’s mayor’ in mere moments.

“Look," Hancock put down his beer, perhaps with more force than necessary while his voice took on a threatening tone. “I’m not giving out handouts, but neither am I into this extortion crap. If you don’t got the money, then I’m cutting you off. Simples as that. I’m not gonna hound you for the cash, and you’re not gonna bother me with excuses. When you got the buck to pay up, you come see me. Got it?”

Seemingly relieved, the drifter replied in gratitude. “Yes, thank you, thank you! I’ll have your money, I promise," she said as she backed away from the table.

“I’m sure you will," he said and continued to drink his beer.

After the women had left, the jovial tone that they had kept between them was lost. Hancock was staring off into nothing, probably deep in thought, and Aiden were trying to come up with some topic of conversation that would break the awkward atmosphere.

“So, it’s only the first hit that’s free, then?”

Hancock startled, and stared incomprehensibly at Aiden.

Aiden looked him right in the eyes with the most insincere facial expression he could muster. “You know, the jet? Is it just the first one that’s free? ‘Cause I sorta lost my regular income recently, I might have some trouble paying for -”

“Wiseass," Hancock said and tried to hide a smile behind his beer. He took a swill from his beer before he continued. “Nah, with an ass like yours? You could probably milk me for more than just one free hit," he said and put one arm around Aiden, who did his best impression of the color red. Groaning in embarrassment, he tried to make himself as small as physically possible. Hancock just laughed at Aiden’s reaction and continued to drink his beer.

_ The fuck have I’ve gotten myself into. _

 


	9. Chapter 9

Aiden spent the rest of the evening in the company of Hancock at The Third Rail, managing to drain closer to nine beers in between them. When the bar started to get crowded, and Hancock no longer had the prospect of finishing an entire conversation without getting interrupted by a drunk citizen, they relocated to Hancock’s office.

As soon as they had entered, Hancock threw himself into one of the couches and did his best to occupy the entire thing. Aiden just chuckled under his breath and took a seat for himself on the opposite couch from the mayor’s.

“The hell you doin’ all the way over there?" asked the mayor, reaching out to Aiden from his lounged position.

“I’d love to sit next to you, but unfortunately your oversized ego is taking up the entire couch," said Aiden as Hancock withdrew his hand. Aiden relaxed his posture and laid back to cozy on the old furniture, feeling pleasantly buzzed from the beer.

Hancock snorted as he sat up, consciously making more room to somehow prove that Aiden was wrong. “I’ve got to ask, is sarcasm your standard setting, or your only setting?”

Giving Hancock a challenging grin, Aiden raised one eyebrow in a clear unimpressed expression, daring him to go on.

Realising that Aiden could not be talked (or sassed) into switching couch, Hancock instead got up and moved to sit on the same couch Aiden had secured.

“Move over," he said, and made himself comfortable next to Aiden.

“Oh, come on, get your own. This one’s taken," Aiden countered, and tried to subtly push Hancock off the loveseat using the sole of his feet.

Even as lightly inebriated as he was, it had somehow temporarily slipped Aiden’s mind that trying anything close to tussling with the Ghoul would never result in anything but failure. As soon as Hancock was onto what Aiden was trying to do, he grabbed each ankle on both of the offending appendages, and consequently secured them in his lap, preventing Aiden from kicking Hancock off.

Having admittedly lost the first round, Aiden tried to pull back his legs from the Ghoul’s now unrelinquishing hold, yielding much the same result as earlier. Hancock just righted his grip on his legs and then pulled, ensuing that Aiden slipped down the couch to lie on his back, legs still trapped in the mayor’s lap.

“Try all ya’ want, kid, but I’m not moving," said Hancock with a smug grin.

Taking it as the challenge it was, Aiden changed tactics and tried to kick the man’s hands off. That turned out to be harder than he first thought as it was impossible to gain any momentum with the Ghoul holding his ankles. When that did not lead to anything, he instead tried to wriggle out of Hancock’s grasp.

Hancock snickered as he tried to compensate for Aiden’s every move, even though it was proving to be quite a challenge to counter all of them. “Come on, just knock it off," said Hancock, imploring Aiden to stop. 

Fueled by beer induced playfulness, Aiden continued to fight for his freedom while Hancock defended his right to sit on his own furniture. As it went on, Aiden started to play more and more dirty, trying to poke the major in any vulnerable places he could reach. After attempting to poke the Ghoul in the lower part of his abdomen, something hungry passed over Hancock’s face, before he quickly schooled his expression.

Aiden stilled, quickly realising the mood had changed but unsure as to what had caused it. Hancock’s almost entirely black eyes met his, while Aiden’s breath slowly calmed from his earlier exertion.

Hancock seemed to search his eyes for some kind of sign, and without breaking eye contact, Hancock cautiously placed one hand on Aiden’s thigh, just above the knee.

Aiden glanced down at the hand and then up again at Hancock, curious what the Ghoul was planning.

After gauging Aiden’s reaction, Hancock continued to delicately slide his hand a couple of inches at a time, further up his thigh, while carefully using his thumb to massage the inner muscles of his leg.

Suddenly clear on what Hancock was doing, Aiden’s breath caught in his throat, and heat spread like wildfire throughout his body. The redness of his cheek, which he had no doubt was clearly visible, could no longer only be attested to their earlier consumption of alcohol. 

Aiden made no motion to remove the provocative hand, but he still kept his gaze locked to the Ghoul’s.

As his actions were not rebuked, Hancock again moved his hand, a little further up than it had been just the second before.

The touch in itself was no more than a firm pressure against his leg, but the implication of what this was leading to made arousal flare hot in Aiden’s gut. His breath sped up, and his heart was pounding so hard that he was sure his heartbeat was audible to the man currently resting a single hand halfway up his thigh.

The burning look Hancock was giving him felt like a small inferno, making his skin too hot and his mouth too dry. Hancock shifted his hand a small step closer to Aiden’s privates before he again stopped, continuing to slowly stroke the sensitive area on the inside of his thigh.

Aiden tried to swallow, and hoped to gain some type of grip on the situation. But it only took a small movement of Hancock’s hand or a glimpse of his sweltering gaze for Aiden to lose track of his thoughts.

He was painfully aroused, and it only got worse the closer Hancock got to his goal. Using the opposite leg from the one Hancock was working, he tried to alleviate the pressure on his pelvic region by slightly parting his legs, and as side effect, giving Hancock more room to work.

A barely perceptible grin flashed over Hancock’s face, as well as that hungry look from earlier. From his earlier position sitting on the couch, Hancock moved both gracefully and deliberately, as if to avoid startling Aiden, to lean over him. Placing one hand beside Aiden’s head to hold his weight, and one knee between his legs, Hancock leaned in close. The other hand was now resting just shy of Aiden’s crotch. Close enough that a bare nudge would result in contact, close enough for Aiden to almost feel the heat of the hand through the fabric of his pants, but still not close enough to be touching.

Aiden’s breath went from labored to panting. Now almost face to face with the Ghoul, he felt his body-heat oh so close to him, progressively feeding the flames of his lust.

Aiden could never be considered a patient man by any means, but he was so captivated by Hancock and what he was doing, that he dared not try to interrupt him. Having been passive since the start of Hancock’s seduction, Aiden slowly raised his hands hands to rest on Hancock’s shoulders, securely gripping the fabric of his red coat.

Hancock still did not move his hand any closer to where Aiden really wanted it, but he did lean closer to Aiden. For a couple of moments, Hancock’s mouth was just inches away from Aiden’s, sharing the same air, while Aiden tried his best not to rush Hancock to  _ get the fuck on with it _ .

Amused, probably due to Aiden’s non-existent poker-face making it possible to read him like an open book, Hancock leaned in ever so closer. Aiden closed his eyes, fully anticipating that Hancock would to kiss him, before the mayor instead chose to press his mouth carefully to the side of Aiden’s neck. Somewhat disappointed over an opportunity lost, Aiden was startled when he felt the same rough lips, teeth and a very hot tongue lavish his neck in attention. For every touch, a spark of arousal coursed through his body, making him unconsciously turn his head to allow Hancock better access.

Choking off a moan that threatened to escape, Aiden bit his lower lip to silence himself before he let out any other embarrassing sounds. Something that was made all the more difficult by Hancock’s continuous attempts to cover his neck in bruises and bitemarks.

Getting more and more frustrated by Hancock’s inaction (especially in regards to his aching and attention deprived arousal), Aiden decidedly took matter into his own hand. Lifting one hand from Hancock’s shoulder and down his own body, he moved it discreetly over his own abdomen and further down, to provide himself some much needed relief. Just as he was about to reach down to take himself in hand, Hancock caught his wrist and repositioned Aiden’s hand on his shoulder, before he returned his own hand to where it had been slowly driving Aiden mad.

Aiden absolutely refused to beg, and he did not want to sink so low as to plead for Hancock to  _ move his fucking hand _ . But his resolution was wearing thin, and the way Hancock continued to do nothing with his hand instead of something, was causing all sorts of things to short-circuit in his head.

Growling in frustration, he tried to lift his hips to get some friction, only for Hancock to move his hand before he managed any contact.

Aiden felt Hancock’s deep breathless chuckle reverberate through him.

In a deepest, raspiest voice Aiden had ever heard him use, and just barely above a whisper, Hancock spoke only a hair’s width from his ear. “Is there somethin’ you want, Aiden?"

Aiden shivered violently and could not contain the moan of frustration.

Realising that there was no way to get Hancock to do what he wanted unless he played along, Aiden broke.

“Please," Aiden begged. “Please, please, please."

“‘Please’, what?”

“Anything, touch me, please I -" Aiden started but broke off as Hancock bit down hard on the soft tendons of his neck, causing Aiden to exchange words for a drawn out moan.

“Well, aren’t you the responsive one," Hancock mumbled into his neck, tracing the bite marks with kisses, while Aiden continued to respond vocally to every touch.

Seemingly satisfied with whatever marks he had left on Aiden’s neck, Hancock finally started to move that accursed hand, but still not to where Aiden wanted it. Using his fingertips, Hancock followed the contour of his hip and upwards, carefully tracing his waistline. While lightly drawing his fingertips back and forth across his lower abdomen, just at the edge of dipping inside the pants, Hancock once more tried to seek eye contact with Aiden, in a last confirmation for what he was about to do.

Their eyes met, Aiden’s pleading, Hancock’s smoldering, as Hancock’s hand ever so slowly slipped underneath the waistband of Aiden’s pants. Aiden felt that coarse, leather-like skin of Hancock’s fingers brush against his own sensitive skin of his stomach, to trace the trail of hair from his navel down, its starting point hidden under a layer of clothing. Aiden tried to gulp down air to avoid passing out as Hancock’s hand slowly drew closer. At this point, Aiden was certain he would not be able to last past the first stroke.

Aiden was trembling, making small noises of desperation. Every ounce of patience he had left was used to just lay there, allowing Hancock to take his time. He could feel the heat of Hancock’s hand, barely an inch from touching him. Aiden threw his head back in anticipation, barely cognisant enough not to let out a whine.

Too enraptured by each other, neither of them noticed the redhead step into the room.

“Mayor Hancock," said Fahrenheit and waited calmly for Hancock to respond.

Aiden could not hear the female’s voice over the beat of his own heart, and only realised that something was amiss when Hancock froze.

“A room has been prepared for our - guest."

For a couple of moments, Aiden deliberated whether they could just ignore the female in favour of continuing what they had started (or was about to start), but one look at Hancock quickly ruled that option out.

Not for the first time, Aiden wondered what the nature of their relationship was, as Hancock’s stunned expression spoke of being caught with both hands in a package of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes.

“I would suggest you both sleep off the alcohol before you commit to anything you’ll regret," Fahrenheit continued as she lit a cigarette.

Hancock slowly removed his hands from Aiden’s pants and mechanically sat back down on the couch.

Fahrenheit stood leaned against the door, looking rather unimpressed, like she had all the time in the world to wait for them to leave, but not expecting them to do it unless she was there to oversee the events.

The realisation that nothing more would happen that evening hit Aiden like a punch in the gut. The frustration was almost painful, not helped by the extreme anticipation from earlier, and glancing in Hancock’s direction revealed a man in regret, fueling another kind of pain.

The unpleasant feelings that was now coiling in his stomach helped erase any lasting thoughts of where this night was leading, replacing arousal with a cold feeling of dread.

“I’ve taken the liberty of moving your belongings to the new bedroom," Fahrenheit continued matter of factly, as if nothing about this situation was bothering her.

_ Is she seriously throwing out the mayor of Goodneighbor from his own house? Or rather, kicking him out from his own bedroom? Now, that’s just cold - _

“Aiden," said Fahrenheit.

“What?" asked Aiden, feeling as if he had somehow missed her earlier calls.

“Your room. You coming?”

_ Oh, my room? Wait a second, since when do I have  _ belongings _? _

Getting up from the couch, deliberately avoiding to glance back in Hancock’s direction, Aiden followed Fahrenheit out of the room, leaving the Ghoul behind to wallow in his misery.

 


	10. Chapter 10

An upgrade might have been a bit of an overstatement. But as the room contained a bed, a small table, a shelf with a small number of books and his trustworthy sphere-shaped companion, Aiden considered it a clear improvement from his previous accommodation. As the room was not divided to the hallway by a set of bars, had a door which did not lock from the outside, and a light that was provided by a small lantern rather than a glaring halogen lamp from the hallway, it could almost be considered a five star hotel in comparison.

As Fahrenheit left him alone to, as she had put it, ‘sleep the booze off’, the memories of the evening came back unbidden, including the last moments after the female bodyguard had somewhat inappropriately interrupted them.

Aiden did speculate how much alcohol they both had consumed, but came to the conclusion that both him and Hancock, although a bit drunk, should have been sober enough to understand what they were getting themselves into, even though the alcohol probably lowered their thresholds with quite a bit.

But the look of absolute remorse that Hancock had sported after Fahrenheit had entered the room, left a bitter taste in his mouth. The reaction seemed somewhat exaggerated in relation to the events, making Aiden unsure as to what could have caused it.

_ I mean, we didn’t even undress! _

Realising that he would not be able to figure it out tonight (or ever), Aiden got ready to sleep.

It took him a quarter of an hour in bed to realise that contemplating Hancock’s erratic behaviour was not lucrative in regards to sleeping, and yet it was almost impossible to stop thinking about it. It took him another half hour after that to come to the conclusion that he  _ really should not be thinking about it right now _ , and another ten minutes to again interrupt his line of thought.

_ Stop, thinkin’ about it! _

A soft knock on his door ( _ his _ door, the novelty of that could not be overstated), interrupted his thoughts. Thinking that he had imagined it, Aiden turned around in another fruitless attempt to go to sleep.

A sigh could be heard outside the door. “Can we talk?" asked Hancock through the door.

Aiden’s heart skipped a beat, though not for the same reason as before. Trying to come to terms with his own feelings, he very much did not like the idea of talking it out with the mayor.

“Not my house, not my rules," was all Aiden said, and half expected Hancock to take that as an affirmative to enter. Instead of the the door creaking, the only sound he heard was that of the general creaking in the house. 

When the silence had stretched on for quite some time, and Aiden had reached the conclusion that the Ghoul had probably left, Hancock finally spoke.

“Right. Good night, then," he said, and left.

That left Aiden in an even more confused state than earlier.

_ Ok, now I have no idea what the fuck’s up, or down. _

In his umpteenth attempt at sleep, Aiden finally managed to close his eyes and rest.

He woke up sometime later with a minor, probably alcohol induced, headache. Luckily, the room had no windows to let in any sunlight, the only light source a small stream that managed to slip in under the door from the hallway. It was only enough light to see that someone had left him some crispy squirrel bits and two bottles of water on the bedside table, which Aiden without further contemplation, proceeded to consume.

After what could be considered breakfast, Aiden found himself with nothing to do.

As Hancock did not make any promises to come speak to him after they both had slept, Aiden did not know if he was expecting ‘a talk’ sometime today, or if Hancock would leave him on his own.

_ Yeah, and didn’t that just suck. _

Instead of some semi ‘feeling sorry for himself’ type of breakdown, Aiden decided to not let Hancock rule his life (more that he already did as his antagonistic jailer). After a thorough investigation of the bookshelf, Aiden found himself deeply entranced in a slightly burnt copy of ‘The Man Without Qualities’. Without much else to do, Aiden spent the bigger part of the morning (if it indeed was morning when he first awoke), and part of the afternoon reading the yellowing pages of the bound works of Robert Musil, illuminated by the warm light of a lantern.

He did not put down the book until he heard a knock on the door. Expecting it to be Hancock, Aiden contemplated what to answer the man. Although, he had not needed to worry.

Without waiting for any type of invitation (verbal or otherwise), Fahrenheit entered the room carrying a bowl that wafted the small room in a heavenly aroma, effectively making Aiden’s mouth water. She put the bowl down next to the breakfast dishes, and replaced the two emptied out water bottles with two filled ones.

Barely waiting long enough for Fahrenheit to deposit the food on the table, Aiden threw himself over the bowl of Iguana soup.

After placing the old food items just outside the room, Fahrenheit casually leaned against the doorway. “It’s as he says then; you really do eat like a man starving," she commented, causing Aiden to slow down the speed at which he was currently consuming his soup.

“Umm, sorry ‘bout that."

“No need to apologise, it was just an observation," she said and continued to, so to say, ‘observe’ him as he finished eating.

Having eaten his fill, Aiden was a bit curious as to why the bodyguard was still standing in the doorway. Thinking that she was waiting for some type of que from him, he tried to express his gratitude. 

“So, ehh, thank you? For the food, I mean," he said, gauging the bodyguards reaction.

“I’ll be sure to forward your compliments," she answered, without making a move to leave.

Even though it was slightly off-putting to have someone watch him from the doorway, Aiden figured she was probably ordered to keep an eye on him. Deciding to ignore her presence, he lifted his book to again start reading it.

“If you have nothing else on your schedule," she interrupted. “How about you accompany me around town," asked Fahrenheit in a way that by no means indicated that participation was to be seen as voluntary. It was the kind of question that had the unfortunate side effect of classing all and any answers in the negative spectrum as really inappropriate choices.

“Ehh, sure?" Aiden answered a bit hesitant, but still moved to follow her as she exited his room ( _ his _ room) and proceeded out of the Old State House.

Unlike Hancock, Fahrenheit actually waited for him to catch up before she started walking, making their way to ‘Daisy's Discounts’.

“Good afternoon, Daisy," Fahrenheit greeted the shopkeep.

“Nice to see you, Fahrenheit. How is everything? All fine I hope.”

“It is, it is. I was hoping you had something in the line of armor for a guy in his size," Fahrenheit said and pointed to Aiden.

_ For  _ some _ guy in my size, or for  _ this _ guy, in my actual size? _

Aiden looked questioning at Fahrenheit, although he was unsure if she just did not notice or if she intentionally continued to ignore him.

Daisy raised her hand to her face in contemplation, a gesture that is supposed to communicate to other people that you were in deep thought. Aiden considered the action to be somewhat pointless as you either were actually thinking, in which the gesture in no way could contribute, or you wanted others to think that you were thinking, which seemed downright stupid. Why would you ever want other people to realise that you were, or pretended to be, plotting against them, while still being in the same room? Foolish did not even begin to cover it.

“Hmm, you know, I just might have something lying about that would be perfect," she said, turning around to walk upstairs, probably to check some other part of her stock.

Glancing in the direction of Fahrenheit, Aiden could see that she was by no means in a hurry. But neither did she seem interested in making conversation with Aiden. That was perfectly fine with Aiden. Perfectly fine, for the entirety of 30 seconds.

After the silence had turned uncomfortable, Aiden cleared his throat to get Fahrenheit to partake in the classical art of small talk. “So, this  _ guy _ you’re collecting armor for, just happened to be my size, then” he asked her.

“Nothing you need to worry about," she answered and went back to ignoring him.

_ Well, that went well. _

Somewhat dejected, Aiden turned around and took a seat in one of the chairs in the room, mulling for the rest of the wait.

It did not take much longer for Daisy to come down the stairs, carrying an armful of leather armor. Always too curious for own good, Aiden got up to inspect what she had brought.

“They might be a bit large for his, or someone of his frame, but we could always tuck it in a bit," Daisy said, and held up a chest piece to measure against Aiden.

“That would be appreciated, thank you Daisy," said Fahrenheit.

“Well, it’s the least I can do," Daisy said smiling at Fahrenheit, before she turned back to Aiden. “Now, I take it you don’t need help getting yourself equipped? I need to know which parts fit, and which don’t."

“I know that looks might deceive, but I do actually know how to dress myself," Aiden answered as he started to pull the chest piece on, and then immediately got his shirt caught on one of the buckles.

Daisy just chuckled and walked up to help. “You could’ve fooled me."

Aiden was just a tiny bit thankful that his entire head was currently stuck in the armor, that way nobody could see the way his cheeks turned bright red.

With all armor pieces on, Daisy started to push and pull on the parts where she commented that the fit was a bit loose. If it had been up to Aiden, he would not have bothered; the Raider leathers he was used to wearing, were not made to fit. If you found something you could get over your head, then it would probably fit over the rest of you. But as these were not parts of a Raider garb, and he was not the one paying for it, Aiden did not feel the need to point that out.

After Daisy had made her notes, and had helped Aiden get out of the armor without further incident, she notified Fahrenheit that it might take a few hours to get the corrections done, but she was welcome to pick it up by then. Fahrenheit once again thanked her before she and Aiden exited the shop.

_ Without getting tackled or thrown into the air this time. Ain’t that a win. _

“Aiden," Fahrenheit interrupted his thoughts. She stopped walking and turned to stand face-to-face with Aiden, ensuring that she had his complete attention.

“You’ve been playing along with us so far, and without any mishap from your side. And from what I saw yesterday, your relationship with Hancock seemed to have progressed beyond the border of platonic," she said with such a serious expression (not that he ever saw her as anything but), that the topic of conversation first did not register.

_ Wait, what? _

“In normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a problem. But due to your history, I still have my reservations. Therefore, I ask you, if we can trust you," she continued. “Trust you to not run off and play sadist with one of your old Raider outfits again."

Although Aiden realised that this topic of conversation would have had to come up again eventually, he did not expect to have this conversation with Hancock’s bodyguard.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but now that you’ve mentioned -"

Fahrenheit took a single step closer to him, and that was all it took for him to feel threatened. “I’m not playing around, Aiden. We don’t have the manning to constantly guard you, as I guess you have noticed. Hancock is the mayor of Goodneighbor, which means he has to put the  _ people _ first, in front of his own needs. So,” she paused, and Aiden could see her use her right hand to check the safety on her holstered gun, clearly stating what the consequences would be if he did not cooperate. “So I ask you, are you one of the  _ people _ , or are you one of our enemies."

Aiden felt the air leave him. He clearly would not get out of this interaction alive should he choose to walk away, and from Fahrenheit’s appearance, it was clear she would not accept anything but the truth, leaving Aiden in a precarious situation as of what to say.

“I-" Aiden started but cut himself off. Fahrenheit did not try to push him, but he had no doubt she would use that gun on her hip should he try to stall for too long. “I -"

He did not know what to say. He could not lie and say that he had not thought of getting out of Goodneighbor to hook up with another suit. But neither would he take the first chance he had to run off.

“I-I’m not gonna run," Aiden answered and prayed that Fahrenheit would not fulfill her earlier threat.

“Good. But that is not what I asked."

_ Dammit. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally unrelated, I might have noticed a glaringly obvious mistake in the earlier chapters in regards to my conceptual picture of the Old State House lower floor. I thought the cell was positioned straight from the stairs (where there’s an empty space of nothing, in reality), and not in one of the side room of that corridor. So, eh heh, oups? How about we pretend they, eh, refurbished? XD


	11. Chapter 11

Fahrenheit did not relent.

“I asked you if you were on our side. Or should I expect a knife in my back at some point?”

_ Like I could ever catch you unaware, much less get a hold of a knife to cut you with. _

“I’m not gonna turn around and stab you. The hell would I even gain by doin’ that," Aiden tried to reason with her.

“And yet, you cannot provide a simple answer for the question I just asked of you," she countered.

_ That’s because I’m kinda sure you won’t accept the answer ‘it’s complicated’. _

“Look," Aiden started. “You’ve given me food, a bed, and somewhere to stay. I’m not about to flush that down the drain. But," Aiden stopped himself, carefully considering his next words.

Even though most of Aiden’s time in Goodneighbor had been spent in a dungeon. A dungeon that had lacked all but the most basic of comforts, he was never treated with unnecessary cruelty. He was not tortured, never starved, and he was not hurt beyond reason. Neither Hancock nor Fahrenheit seemed to take pleasure in bringing him harm, and none of the guards had ever punished him (well except when they threw a ball in his head as he actively tried to annoy them). By all means, this was the best he had been treated for as long as he could remember. Certainly better than he and the crews had ever treated their prisoners.

_ But here comes the hard part...  _

He did not see a future for himself here. He could not stay as an impromptu house guest, living off of the charity of the house owners and what they decided for him to do. While he would gladly pass several days reading, there were only so many books left in this wasteland. Beside the inherent laziness of doing nothing, the feeling of being useless had already started to grate on Aiden. Now that he and Hancock no longer were on speaking terms, he could not picture any scenario where he could live here peacefully without running into him, feeling awkward and resentful for what could have been but most likely never would.

Aiden sighed before he began over. “But, I can’t stay here forever, and I’m not really cut out to be a farmer. Doing what I’ve done for the bigger part of my life, I can’t just walk away and pretend it never happened. I’m not a nice guy, I’m not overly skilled, but I was good at what I did. And I seriously don’t know anything else," admitted Aiden.

Fahrenheit looked like the embodiment of patience as she started to answer Aiden. “There are other jobs beside farming, and I’m not asking you to make a decision about your future. I’m asking you where your loyalties lie. As much as he acts the opposite, it would devastate Hancock if you would choose to turn your back on all of this.”

The fact that Fahrenheit used Hancock as bait, as a way to persuade him to accept this lifestyle that she dangled in front of his face, raised his hackles. Manipulation was a dick move on any day, but that she would stoop so low as to use Aiden’s feelings against him in order to persuade him to stay, was a new low. Especially since those feelings would never be reciprocated and could therefore not be acted upon. It was like holding out a bottle of water to a thirsty man before telling him it was poisoned.

“Why do you care?" asked Aiden. ”If I was gone, Hancock would get over it eventually. Hell, if he hasn't already, considering the look he had when he was caught red handed while trying to cheat on you."

Fahrenheit frowned and looked at him questionably. “Trying to cheat on me," she repeated in a deadpan voice. “What gave you the idea that we were even involved?”

That gave Aiden pause.

_ Say, what-now? Did I really misinterpret the situation that badly? _

But he could not have misread the expression on Hancock’s face. 

“But, the look he had -"

“The look he had was because he knew I would be disappointed by his actions. But not for the reasons you’re suggesting. Since neither I nor him could get a clear answer out of you whether you had left your raiding days behind you, I strongly recommended him not to initiate any type of relationship with you, friendly or otherwise. And as experience tells us, he went ahead and ignored that piece of advice.”

The feeling that he had made a terrible mistake washed over Aiden and left him reeling. He had ignored Hancock on the basis that he and Fahrenheit were involved. Last night, he felt as if he had been used and then thrown away on account of Hancock saving whatever relation he had left to save. To find out that the only reason Hancock was upset, was due to Aiden’s aversion to commitment, both to the mayor and to the opportunity he had offered, made nauseous.

“So give me a clear answer, Aiden," Fahrenheit continued. “Yes or no, can we trust you? Do you swear not go back to your old life?"

Clawing at his hair, Aiden slowly shook in response to his own inner turmoil. Realising he had to give her some type of answer, ha started to speak.

“Yes, yes, you can trust me. And I -" Aiden bit his lip in nervousness. “I -" Aiden tried to swallow before he continued. ”I -"

Aiden did not want to admit what made the last part so hard to commit to words.

_ ‘Cause making promises you can’t keep seems like the perfect foundation of a great relationship. _

“I-I can’t. I really can’t make that promise. I can’t promise that I’ll never go back to being a Raider. I -" said Aiden, trying his best to put words to his thoughts.

It was not because he enjoyed that type of life (because really he did not), but he did not trust himself to not, at some point, slide down that slippery slope and again end up in some backwater gang somewhere in Boston.

“Yes, you can, and you will," Fahrenheit stated assuredly.

“It’s really not that simple to-”

“It is exactly that simple," Fahrenheit interrupted. “I even got an incentive for you, should you need it," she said as she patted her firearm.

_ Oh fuck her! You don’t get people to make life-changing decisions under the threat of being shot! That’s not even close to fair! _

Aiden growled in frustration.

“Fine! Fine, I won’t go back to my old life. You satisfied?" Aiden barked upset.

“Very," Fahrenheit answered as she put the gun safety back on, and then turned around to walk. Aiden made a reluctant move to follow but was stopped as she put her hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to follow me around. You promised me that you wouldn’t run the first chance you got. So this is me, entrusting you the freedom to walk around town, unsupervised.”

She let go of him before she again turned away.

“Just be home before anyone misses you," she said, and then left Aiden where he stood in the middle of the street.

Somewhat stupefied, Aiden watched as Fahrenheit walked away, unsure as to what he was supposed to do now. He turned around once to throw a look at the gate that separated Goodneighbor from the rest of Boston, contemplating what he had just given up, before he sighed and made his way back inside the Old State House.

Aiden went up to his room ( _ his _ … and the novelty had worn off), not bothering with closing the door before he threw himself on the bed and picked up his book.

Even as the hours went by, Aiden had issues with focusing on the words he was reading, as his thoughts continued to wander back to the conversation with Fahrenheit. After having read the same paragraph for what felt like the fifth time, Aiden gave up, and placed the book on his face in an attempt to hide from the world.

A knock was heard from the open doorway, but as Aiden deduced it could only be one of two people, of which he wanted to see neither, he kept the book where it was.

“I think you’ve misunderstood this whole ‘reading thing’, ‘cause I doubt you get anything out of that book the way you’re holding it," Hancock commented from the doorway.

The way anxiety gripped his heart made him feel like emptying out his stomach on the floor. Talking with Hancock now when he had yet to come to terms with his own feelings, nor what he wanted for himself, felt like a setup for disaster. And that was without considering his general view for the man himself after last night’s fiasco.

_ I’m really not in the mood, Hancock. _

Aiden groaned, but made no attempt to lift the book.

“Not gonna invite me in?" asked Hancock, though he remained politely by the doorway.

Aiden gave him the same response as earlier: a groan.

“You’re a big boy, use your words."

“Fuck off."

“Not the words I was thinking of, but that’s a start," replied Hancock and continued with a hint of exasperation. “Come on, we need to talk."

_ No, you  _ want _ to talk. I’m perfectly fine with lying here, ignoring you. _

“Why," was the response that came instead from under the book cover.

“Because we need to talk about what happened," said Hancock as Aiden heard him step into the room.

“Nothin’ happened, ain’t that the whole point," Aiden grumbled, still refusing to show his face.

“If nothing happened, then why are you hiding behind ‘The Man Without Qualities’?"

Aiden sighed before he put the book down on the side table, pushing himself to don an annoyed look before answering.

“Happy?" said Aiden, glaring in Hancock’s direction. 

Hancock shrugged. “Not really, not until you tell my why you’re in a mood."

_ Oh fuck you. _

“Oh, really? Me? I’m the one in a mood?" said Aiden and was up from the bed and up in Hancock’s face within seconds. “I’m not the one who looked like my whole fucking world was collapsing after my bodyguard found me on the couch with another man."

They stood barely and inch apart, staring at each other; Aiden with dejected anger, Hancock with guarded resignation. Even at that distance, it was impossible to tell what Hancock was thinking. Though he did not back down from Aiden’s confrontation.

“You done?" asked Hancock, still not revealing any of his emotions.

“Yeah, I’m so fuckin’ done," Aiden said, and turned to walk back to bed.

_ I’m done with this. Done with trying, done with wanting. Why the fuck did I even bother? _

He took one step towards his cot before he felt two hands land heavily on his shoulders.

“Good. My turn then," said Hancock, and let his hands slide up and down Aiden’s arms in a gesture of comfort. Aiden did everything in his power to not relax into his touch, even though Hancock was making it very difficult for him.

_ No, no, no, don’t convince me when I’ve already made up my mind. Please don’t. _

“The way I see it," Hancock started and changed the direction in which his hands traveled, to follow the curves on each side of Aiden’s back, to finally rest on his hips. Aiden shuddered, and quickly tensed to cover it.

“ - you’re upset," Hancock righted the position of his hands on Aiden, bettering his grip. “You’re thinking that I, somehow thought of you, and what we did, as a mistake. So, I’ll tell you what," Hancock used his grip on Aiden’s hips and pulled the Ex-Raider towards him. Aiden stood no chance against that kind of strength, and quickly found himself in Hancock’s embrace, his back pressed tightly against Hancock’s chest. He could feel Hancock’s breath close against his ear. “You, aren’t, a mistake." Hancock’s deep voice reverberated through his entire body, causing Aiden to choke off a moan as to not embarrass himself.

Seemingly determined to make Aiden lose his composure, Hancock lightly nibbled on Aiden’s neck and used his hands to press him ever so closer.

In that low baritone of his, Hancock continued to speak right next to Aiden’s ear. “You alright? We good?”

In a shaky voice, Aiden replied. “Y-yeah, just peachy."

Giving him one last bite, Hancock released him before he took a step back to restore the distance between them.

“Good, then I’ll see you tomorrow," Hancock said and then left the way whence he came.

Taking a couple of steadying, albeit shaky, breaths as he ensured himself that Hancock was out of earshot, Aiden mumbled under his breath. “Fucking tease."

“I heard that."

 


	12. Chapter 12

It took Aiden about half a week to go through the first book he had picked up from the bookshelf, and he had just started to read the introduction to ‘The Great Gatsby’, when Fahrenheit knocked on his door and asked him to run an errand.

“What the hell do you need ten mutfruit for, anyway?" asked Aiden, genuinely curious, and not only in regards to the reason why she could not pick them up herself.

_ It’s not like it’s a long walk there. _

“Just pick it up from Daisy and bring them back here," she said before she left his room.

Shaking his head in confusion, he put the book back before he went to pick up Fahrenheit’s undisclosed, and apparently very important, fruit delivery.

Outside of the State House, Aiden was met by the sight of three people; Hancock, Nate and a scruffy looking kid, conversing jovially out in the middle of the street. It did not take Hancock more than a couple of seconds to spot him on his way down the steps from the door.

“Well, look who it is," he said as a greeting, while Aiden made his way over to them.

_ Fucking Fahrenheit and her creepy setups. I shoulda’ known she was bullshitting me about those ten mutfruit. _

“Nate, you’ve met Aiden. MacCready, Aiden," Hancock introduced him.

“Hey, kid," MacCready hailed, raising one of his hands in a salute.

_ Who’s the fuck is he calling a kid?! He looks barely old enough to have dropped his balls! _

A bit miffed, Aiden felt the need to make his displeasure known. “Ya’ sure you‘re allowed out this late for your parents?" Aiden asked, trying to regain some of his lost pride.

MacCready’s face went from relaxed to pissed in seconds. His nose wrinkled in a frown before he retorted. “What the fu-fudge is your problem?”

_ Wait, did he just censor himself? That is fucking hilarious! _

“Aiden, play nice," Hancock chided him, which Aiden pointedly ignored.

“Yeah, kid, listen to your elders," MacCready in turn mocked him.

“Come on R-J, don’t pour oil on the flames," Nate admonished before he pulled down MacCready’s green hat over his face. MacCready quickly pulled it up before he glared at the Vault dweller with a pout.

_ A fucking pout! Who the hell is this kid? _

“Wow, you like twelve or somethin’? Is that gun really yours (which I fuckin’ doubt), or are you just carrying it around for the Vaultie?" Aiden taunted, trying to get a rise from MacCready. After having just been told off by the Nate, his insult-protecting barrier seemed to have recovered enough to ignore Aiden’s jibe. It did, however, not prevent MacCready from staring at him in with an air of heavy dislike.

Aiden quickly tried to think of something else to needle the guy with. “And the fuck’s up with your speech. Did someone force you to tip the swear-jar every time you potty mouth?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say (or right thing, depending on what the desired effect was), as MacCready tried to throw himself over Aiden, but was effectively stopped by Nate.

“You’re really going to let him rile you up like this?" Nate asked as he pulled on scarf MacCready had tied around his neck, effectively getting him to back down.

MacCready huffed, but was calmed nonetheless. However, calming down did not mean he backed down from the argument.

“Yeah, sorry. Don’t know what came over me. I guess uncivilised punk’s just pull out the worst in me. Must be my father instincts pushing me to teach  _ bad boys _ their manners," he said, and gave Aiden a filthy, disdainful look.

_ I’m the one that needs to learn etiquette? Oh, it’s fucking on, baby boy! _

Aiden was about to strangle the cap wearing bastard, and probably would have succeeded, had Hancock not seen it fit to intervene. Before Aiden managed to get a single hand on MacCready’s neck, Hancock grabbed his wrist, and forced it to Aiden’s back, bringing the hand up as high as it could go. The action was, not unexpectedly, followed by fierce pain.

“Owowowow, ow, ow," Aiden complained and tried desperately to pull his arm out of Hancock’s grasp, only for him to pull it higher. “Fuck, ow!”

“Now,” Hancock spoke in a tone that belied his actions. “I for one, want to hear all about what happened out there in the Boston ruins," he directed to Nate, as he continued to hold Aiden’s shoulder hostage to pain. “So, what say you that we continue this discussion over a couple of beers down at ‘The Rail’?”

Nate just shrugged his shoulders. “Fine by me," while MacCready answered something in the line of ‘heck yeah’.

“Great," acknowledged Hancock. “I have a couple of things I need to discuss with Aiden here, but we’ll meet you guys there."

Nate nodded in confirmation before he and MacCready made their way towards the bar. As soon as they were out of sight, Hancock released Aiden who immediately cradled his abused shoulder.

“Ouch! And here I thought we were past the abuse."

“We were. The hell do you think you’re doin’?" demanded Hancock.

“He called me a kid," complained Aiden, still rubbing his aching shoulder.

Hancock frowned and looked at Aiden with a quizzical expression. “So? I call you a kid all the time.”

“Yeah, but you’re obviously older than me," responded Aiden, receiving a disapproving glare from Hancock in return. Realising that he had just called Hancock old (because apparently even Ghouls were sensitive about their age), Aiden tried to backtrack, or rather argue for his point of view. “I mean, the guy looks like he’s at least 5 years my junior."

“And?" Hancock goaded.

“And, I’m not gonna let some kid call  _ me _ a kid," Aiden finished.

Hancock just rolled his eyes before he spoke. “First of all, I doubt you’re that much older than MacCready, considering he’s an Ex-Gunner, a rather busy mercenary and a father of one. And that is if you’re actually older than him at all, which I have my own doubts about." 

Aiden just crossed his arms and looked away, giving Hancock his best impression of ‘whatever it is you are selling, I’m not buying it’. “Secondly," Hancock continued, raising his voice to get Aiden’s attention. “What does his age matter?”

“If you allow a rookie to step on you, they’re gonna step all over you. I’m not gonna let a pipsqueak like him call me a kid and get away with it," answered Aiden defensively.  

Hancock let out a groan and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose (or what was left of it). “You’re seriously tryin’ my patience."

“Well, he started it," Aiden countered petulantly.

Hancock went from slightly annoyed to irritated in moment. “Really? We really doin’ this? ‘Cause I’d rather be drinking than play ‘the blame game’."

Aiden opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again when he realised nothing he said could possibly change Hancock’s opinion.

Realising he had lost, Aiden huffed in defeat. “Fine," he said dejectedly.

“Good. Just stop snapping at MacCready like you’re an unruly hound, and you and I won’t have a problem. Think you can do that?”

“Fine."

“Think you can give me another answer than just ‘fine’?”

“Fine."

Probably realising that there was no use to further discuss this with Aiden, Hancock wearily sighed before he urged him to start walking.

They made their way into The Third Rail, and as they walked down the stairs to the underground bar, they were hailed by Nate who sitting alone by one of the tables.

“R-J is getting the drinks," he explained to Hancock as he and Aiden got closer.

“That so? Then I’ll make sure Chuck is serving him beer and not some of that other swill that he keeps behind the bar," said Hancock and left Aiden to take a seat opposite of the Vaultie.

Aiden met Nate’s eyes once before his own started to wander. Thinking of nothing to talk about (because what do you even ask a Vaultie who has lived bigger part of his life underground), Aiden started to examine the decor of the place.

“Not to be prying," Nate said, breaking the silence and gaining Aiden’s attention. “But how did you and Hancock meet?”

“Same social circle," Aiden answered, assuming that the Vaultie would just leave it at that, and hoping that Hancock would be back soon to save him from this awkward conversation.

“You sure? Because I can’t really picture Hancock ‘hanging out’ in any Raider circles," Nate questioned easily, giving him an accusatory look.

_ Fuck. _

“Hancock tell you anythin’?”

“Not like he needed to. Your display outside was enough of a clue," said Nate and leaned back against the backrest. The gesture was deceivingly casual, making Aiden heedful of what Nate’s intentions was with this interrogation.

The look he gave Aiden spoke of great distrust, and made him feel like he was on some sort of trial, where one wrong move was all that was needed for the man opposite of him to dish out his judgement.

Unsure if he was expected to respond to the accusation, Aiden opted to stay quiet.

“You act like someone brought up on the street in a ‘eat or get eaten’ situation. People like that tend to bark loud to scare off others," Nate continued. “MacCready is the same, which is why you got at each other’s throats in no-time. And since you don’t strike me as a Gunner, you having a background in some Raider clan seemed like the only logical explanation."

_ And he got all that from me insulting the other guy for a couple of minutes? _

“You answered another one of my questions though," Nate baited him. “I assume Hancock already knows of your past, then? Because I wasn’t looking forward to telling him that he had been infiltrated by the world’s first undercover Raider," he said with a tone of voice implying that he might have looked forward to what Hancock would do to him had he withheld that piece of information, and with a type of smile that encourage you to seek out and secure all and every point of exit.

“Beer for you," Hancock said, interrupting the impromptu enquiry by placing a Gwinnett brew on the table in front of Aiden, before seating himself next to him with his own cold beer in hand.

“The first cheer goes to Hancock, for saving us from drinking whatever Whitechapel pass as ‘beverage’," said MacCready after he took a seat next to Nate.

Aiden was still in fight-or-flight mode, not feeling the least bit comfortable with what had just passed between him and the Vault dweller. He glanced at Nate and was met with the same inquisitive look he had been confronted with during the last couple of minutes, feeling naked in a deeper kind of way than standing in a crowded room without wearing any clothes.

“Come on," Hancock nudged him. “Drink up."

At Hancock’s prod, Aiden picked up his beer from the table, but could not convince himself to drink from it.

“To friends and good beer," MacCready toasted, raising his bottle before taking a swig from the mouth of it. Hancock and Nate raised their bottles in accord, while Aiden only raised his to avoid being called out on it. Though he did not drink like the rest of the company.

“So, tell me, what kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time Sole," Hancock said, making himself comfortable, prepared to listen to whatever story Nate was going to tell him.

“Nah, nothing too exciting. We cleared out a couple of spots from whatever creatures that were plaguing them, picked the places clean of loot, and then set course for Goodneighbor," Nate answered and took another swallow of his beer.

Aiden had started to drink his as well, realising that being drunk in this situation was preferable to being sober.

MacCready was apparently in disagreement with the description that Nate had offered, and tried to make him elaborate on his recount of their last trip. “Why’d you make it sound like that’s something that happen everyday?”

“Yeah, Sole, I know you can do better than that," Hancock concurred.

Nate seemed to ponder what to say before he humored them. “Well, if it’s a tale you want, who am I to deny you," he answered, as if he yielded to the combined peer pressure of Hancock and MacCready, and not at all because he was probably interested in sharing to begin with.

Putting down his beer on the table, he met each and everyone’s eyes to ensure he had his audience’s unraptured attention. And just like a switch had been turned, Nate’s entire countenance changed to someone with a secret to tell, and entirely too willing to share it.

“So," he started, adding a pause for effect. “Me and R-J here were stalking down the Boston Commons.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

A couple of beers later, and contrary to his own previous prediction, Aiden was deeply engrossed in Nate’s retelling of their trip. Hancock’s earlier comment that he was the wrong person to ask if Aiden wanted to hear what he and the Vault dweller had been up to, was suddenly making a lot more sense. Nate was a good speaker and an excellent narrator. He managed to make you feel as if you were there with him on his adventure around the Commonwealth. Most of the details were probably greatly exaggerated, if not entirely fabricated, but he used them in a way that added to the story, and not to in any way to boost his own actions or importance to the events that he depicted.

Aiden glanced in the direction of Hancock. He was sitting lounged, one arm over the backrest, with a content expression adorning his face. He was clearly not buying most of the nonsense that passed the mouth of the Vault dweller, but he still seemed interested in listening to it.

“And then what," Hancock asked, easily falling into the rhythm of Nate’s story telling.

“A man, big as a Yao guai, lumbered closer to us. Dressed the part, his face was hidden beneath a bear’s mask, shouting and growling like a vicious beast.”

“Seriously," Hancock asked, his voice colored by laughter.

“Deadly," Nate answered sincerely. “And just as he was about to stumble on to me and MacCready’s hiding place, old R-J here,” he said, throwing a thumb in MacCready’s direction. “- took aim and shot the guy’s head clean off. Must’ve flown 30 feet from the rest of him. It was an absolute mess. I had to remove pieces of the guy’s cranium from the inside of the mascot head."

“It wasn’t that good a shot," MacCready differed. “The guy was practically standing next to us. It’d be impossible not to hit him.”

“It was a fantastic shot. Head, clean off, I tell you," countered Nate, refusing to minimize MacCready’s part in the story.

“The hell ya’ gonna do with a mascot’s head?" asked Hancock.

“I’ll think of something, don’t you worry," said Nate with a flirtatious wink, making Hancock snort, and Aiden squirm in obvious annoyance.

_ Fuck that guy and his compulsive flirting. _

“And where was this?" Hancock asked, as Aiden took another deep gulp of his beer.

“D.B. Technical High School, just south of the Commons," answered MacCready.

D.B. Technical High School. The destination Aiden had in mind just before Hancock apprehended him (or rather mauled him) in Daisy’s discounts. The same crew he had been planning to join had things turned out differently.

Aiden choked on his mouthful of beer, and tried desperately to swallow it down before he either inhaled it or sprayed it all over the table. Alternating hacking and hitting himself in the chest, it took almost a minute for him to get the coughing under control.

“Something you want to tell us," asked Hancock with a dangerous hint.

“Yeah," said Aiden between the coughs. “If you’re gonna try to breathe beer, make sure it’s not stout," Aiden answered, trying to clear his lungs from the last traces of the 200-year-old flat stout. Unsurprisingly, Hancock was not very pleased with that answer. He turned to the Vault dweller and shared a meaningful look with him, one that Aiden had no clue of how to decipher.

Nate cleared his throat before he spoke. “Well, I could go for something stronger than beer. Right, R-J?" he said and got up from his seat. “Anything I can get you, John?”

“I’m fine, thanks," answered Hancock, making Aiden sharply turn his head to Hancock.

_ John? His name’s John? Really? _

Not sure as to why, but the fact that Hancock had a rather regular name like ‘John’ had Aiden gleeful, in a scornful and slightly vindictive sort of way.

Nate nodded, throwing a ‘be right back’ over his shoulder as he pulled MacCready with him to the bar, who apparently had nothing to say in the matter.

“Your first name is John?" Aiden asked, clearly aiming at being insolent rather than for the sake of sating his curiosity.

Hancock did however not grace him with an answer. “Not what we’re discussing here," Hancock cut him off. “What’s your connection to Raiders at the D.B. Technical High School?” he instead asked, turning to fully face the Ex-Raider.

“What? None," Aiden answered. Which might have been a believable answer, had he sounded as if the question had shocked him rather than as if he had expected it.

Hancock’s features darkened. “Don’t bullshit me. I don't believe for even a second that it’s a coincidence you inhaled your beer at the same time as MacCready mentioned the old school," Hancock barked.

“No, but I have no idea which crew was inhabiting the place," said Aiden and took a swill from his beer to have something else to do than meet Hancock’s glare.

“Don’t you dare fucking bullshit me, Aiden."

“I’m not fucking bullshitting you. I don’t know them. Or, I’d guess the right way to say it now is that ‘I never knew them’," said Aiden and focused on peeling off the fading label of his beer bottle, facing away from the irate Ghoul.

Aiden heard more than saw Hancock sigh. “I’m so fucking tired of this,” he mumbled, more to himself than for Aiden’s benefit. “Just give me a straight fucking answer -" Hancock started.

“That’s what I’ve been doing," mumbled Aiden, not really expecting for it to be heard by Hancock.

“No, you’ve not given me a single honest answer since we got here. Not only are you jerking me around, now you’re even lying me straight to my face."

That caused Aiden to whip around and face Hancock in an instant, digging his nails into the palm of his hand to keep the anger at bay.

_ When the fuck did I ever lie? That’s a bold fucking claim, Hancock. Or rather, pure fucking slander. _

Aiden forced himself to answer the allegation in a somewhat civil tone. “The fuck I am,” he stated resolutely, cutting himself off before he said something he would probably come to regret later.

“Yeah? Then what is your connection to the D.B. Raiders?" Hancock argued.

“None! None, whatsoever. There is no, fucking, connection. Not even remotely," Aiden refuted while raising his voice.

_ It is fucking doubtful that I knew a single one of them. And even if I’ve by chance met any of them, It’s not like I’d miss ‘em. _

“Stop with the fucking bullshit, Aiden.”

_ He’s like a fucking broken record! _

“I’m, not, fucking, bullshitting you!" Aiden almost shouted in defence.

“And time’s up kids," said Nate as he and MacCready came back with four glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “There’s only so much small talk Whitechapel is willing to take before he threatens to kick you out. If any of you were curious."

MacCready divided the glasses between them as Nate opened the bottle, pouring two fingers of whiskey in each glass.

Aiden stared at the glass of whiskey in front of him, taking a couple of deep breaths to try to calm down now that they once again had company. Sadly, Hancock was not willing to let that discussion go just yet, if the burning glare was any indication.

“Knock it off," he said quietly to Hancock while he picked up his glass, refusing to either face him or acknowledge his need to continue the argument.

“Not ‘til you tell me the truth," Hancock answered, not at all bothered by the new audience.

_ Oh, that fucking does it. _

Aiden put down the whiskey a bit harder than necessary before he again turned to fully face Hancock.

“Look here,” he began. “I’ve never lied to you. Not once. Sure, I may not have been forthcoming with every single detail of my life, but I’ve not lied to you a single, fucking, time. So when I’m telling you, there is no connection, there really is, no, connection. None. Nil. Zero. Nothing. So get off my fucking back," Aiden finished. He turned back to the table and picked up his glass. Thinking the conversation over and done with, he started to sip his whiskey.

Hancock did not move a muscle. After having listened to Aiden’s monologue, Hancock just leaned forward to Aiden and answered with one word. “Bullshit."

That was all it took to drive Aiden over the edge, making him lose his composure entirely. Slamming the glass down on the table, Aiden stood up so fast that his chair fell backwards. He turned to face Hancock, and started shouting like a madman.

“And how the fuck did ya’ come to that conclusion, huh? Just ‘cause you call bullshit on everything I say, ya’ think that automatically makes it true? Then why the fuck should I even bother with telling you anything?”

“Sit down, Aiden," Hancock commanded in a low voice, a clear warning that Aiden probably would not appreciate the consequences of the unspoken ‘or else’.

“Fuck. You," Aiden growled, making it clear that he did not care for the mayor’s threats, silent or outspoken.

“Sit down, or I put you down," Hancock threatened. “Those are your two options. I’m not discussing anything with you while you’re screaming in my face.”

“Fuck -"

“Oh, I promise you, you don’t want to finish that sentence."

“The fuck I don’t. Fuck. You," he challenged. Because there was nothing Hancock could do to him that he had not already had experienced and survived. 

Hancock did not take his eyes off of Aiden. “Remember, you asked for this," he said, giving Aiden one last warning. Barely getting up from his chair, and too fast for Aiden to react, Hancock aimed a low kick at his ankles and managed to sweep Aiden’s legs out right from under him. Aiden was for a terrifying moment in free fall. Realising he would hit the floor, and hard, from a really bad angle, probably breaking or twisting one or both of his wrists, he braced for impact. Before he was even close to hit the ground, he was caught securely by Hancock and placed to sit in his lap.

“No! No you don’t! Fuck, let me go!" Aiden said as he tried to wriggle free from Hancock’s grasp.

“I will. When you calm the fuck down," Hancock said, gripping Aiden impossibly tighter to ensure he did not slip away.

“Really? I’m the one who’s supposed to calm down? I am, fucking, calm!”

“Just adding my two cents here,” Nate interjected, gaining both of the men’s attention. “But from my perspective, you’d both benefit from some time-out in the corner." 

While MacCready was watching them like they were all nuts, Nate was acting like nothing was out of the ordinary, drinking his whiskey as if Hancock and Aiden were having a small dispute rather than something much closer to a full-out brawl.

“So John, put Aiden down, would you please" he commanded Hancock, who actually complied without further discussion.

“So now you listen,” Aiden commented wryly, dusting himself off.

“Aiden, just sit down and shut up," Nate told Aiden.

Pissed off and with his pride wounded, Aiden did not feel like humoring the soft-skinned Vaultie with his cooperation. “How ‘bout you just fuck off."

“I don’t think you actually want that,” Nate stated matter of factly. “Mostly since I am the only thing that is stopping Hancock from tearing you to pieces."

Considering his position and the words of the Vault dweller, Aiden forced himself to reluctantly follow Nate’s order. With deliberate movements, Aiden raised his chair and sat down with a huff.

When both Aiden and Hancock was sitting quietly in their own chairs, Nate once again spoke. “I’m actually curious," he said while observing Aiden. “Why  _ did _ you almost suffocate while drinking flat beer?" Nate looked as if curiosity was the furthest thing from his mind.

Aiden opened his mouth to speak but was instantly interrupted by the Vault dweller. “Now, before you give me the same excuse you’ve given Hancock a number of times, do consider your position. I, for one, don’t actually care what answer you plan on giving, but Hancock certainly seems to. So for the sake of keeping the peace, I’m going to make a suggestion." 

Nate leaned forward to rest his elbows on the stained table. “I’m going to make this really easy for you. I ask you a question, and the only answer you need to give me is a simple yes or no. You game?”

Aiden hesitated, but a glance in Hancock’s direction removed any uncertainties. Aiden could actually feel the anger radiate from the Ghoul in waves.

_ Hancock is pissed. Like, the no fun, I’ll hunt you down and murder you in horrible ways, kinda pissed. Good. Than at least I’m not only one who’s fucking furious. _

“I’m game," Aiden answered, refusing to acknowledge either the Ghoul or his anger.

“Good. Great even. So let’s start with an easy one. Your name’s Aiden, right?”

_ Why did I expect anything else? This is absolutely ridiculous. _

“Yes, that’s my name," Aiden answered, leaning back in his chair to prepare for a long and boring pseudo-interrogation.

“Right. And you’re a Raider."

_ Ok, maybe not as easy as I first thought. _

“He’s what?" came from MacCready, his hands jerking towards the straps holding his rifle to his back. Nate just put a hand on the mercenary’s shoulder, stopping him short from arming himself. The touch seemed to physically calm the mercenary, as he put both hands back on the on the table instead of trying to shoot Aiden.

“That’s not -" Aiden started.

“I don’t think you get it,” Nate interrupted. “Your input is not necessary, Aiden. I only want your answer."

Aiden let out a huge sigh before he answered. “Yes."

Nate nodded approvingly before drinking from his glass of single malt.

“Good. You’re doing great, Aiden. So let’s focus on the more important question. Now, did you have any relations, personal or otherwise, with the Raiders from the D.B. Technical High School?”

“No," Aiden answered, and saw from the corner of his eye how Hancock tensed, his entire countenance turning rigid.

Nate threw a glance in Hancock’s direction, once again sharing some silent communication that neither Aiden nor MacCready was privy to.

“Right," Nate continued, again turning his focus on to Aiden. “But you knew there were a group of Raiders at the old High School?"

“Yeah, I did."

Humming to himself, Nate seemed to ponder how to word his next question. “This is technically outside of the rules, but do you mind explaining how you came across that particular piece of knowledge?"

Aiden nodded carefully, still wanting to keeping an eye on Hancock. “Like all rumors that goes around, I heard through the grapevine that they were looking for recruits."

Turning an inquisitive eye towards Aiden, Nate leaned back in his seat. “Why would that catch your interest?”

Aiden froze and tried to buy time by sipping from his whiskey.

_ Yes, ‘cause why would ’ya put something like that to memory. _

Aiden tried to think of an answer but realised that time was running out on him. “Ehmm, you know, I kinda liked the ‘yes and no’ questions better. Mind if we go back to that?”

Nate rolled his eyes, but agreed to it. “Did you plan to join up with them?"

Hancock seemed irritable, but did not otherwise make any movement. Not that Aiden would be able to parry should he suddenly choose to strangle him. Or stab him.

“Yes," Aiden answered after a short pause.

“Was this before or after you met Hancock?”

_ How the fuck am I supposed to answer that? No, nope, not gonna do that, fuck no. I really like my heart, kinda fond of it actually, beating, in my chest and definitely not splattered on any surface, vertical or otherwise. _

Aiden felt like he was sitting on the knife’s edge, where one wrong step would result in death, or worse.

“Ehmm, I need you to reformulate that question," Aiden requested, because answering that in a truthful way would not only hurt Hancock, but probably ruin any chance he had to redeem himself. Even though the truth was that the plans were made before he got to know the mayor of Goodneighbor, he had actually met him before that, in a bathroom, during less than ideal circumstances.

Nate gave him a questioning look before he acquiesced. “When you were planning on joining up with this particular group of Raiders, were you and Hancock on speaking terms?”

“No."

“Was this before or after you came to Goodneighbor," Hancock chimed in, forcing Aiden to meet the man’s eyes. They reflected pain, disappointment and anger, which felt like a knife in his gut. An unfamiliar feeling of remorse spread throughout Aiden’s body.

“That’s not, I mean, it isn’t the right question to ask," Aiden said quietly.

“I still want you to answer it," Hancock responded.

Aiden looked away for a moment to clear his head enough to come up with an answer. An answer that did not result in Hancock again looking at him with those eyes filled with misery.

“Before the Watch threw me in the dungeon, alright?"

Hancock visibly relaxed at that answer. “Then why the hell did you react the way you did when MacCready mentioned the place?"

So Aiden was not out of the boat up shit creek yet, but he could not ignore the absolute relief he felt. Relief that he had not entirely ruined the rather tentative relationship he had with the mayor of Goodneighbor, relief that he finally actually believed him and had not instantly thrown him back in the dungeon. He was doing his best not to show how upset this whole conversation had made him, burying any and all feelings somewhere where he would not need to assess them any time soon.

“‘Cause the only reason I’m still breathing is because I never left this fucking town. I dodged the fucking bullet because you tackled me to the ground in Daisy’s shop and threw me in keep," Aiden answered, and added more quietly, “Because I always thought I was prepared to die, and now just figured I’m really not."

Aiden did not want to see Hancock’s reaction to the admission that he had saved Aiden’s life, just as much as he did not want to admit that the only reason he was alive was due to Hancock’s initial vindictiveness.

People die, that was the only undisputed truth in the Commonwealth. If you lived your life by leeching off of others, then you could be certain that someone, at some point, would aim a gun between your eyes and pull the trigger. Be that by robbing the wrong person, or by pissing off one of your fellow Raiders, a bullet in the head is still a bullet in the head (or in the back, as the case might be), whether it was by someone you considered an ally or not. Raiders did not live long, Aiden knew that, had always known it, had experience of it, but still continued doing it. At some point, he had just stopped caring. When none of his fellow Raiders showed any sentiments, it felt wrong to worry. If you died, you died. People you were drinking beer with during the evening could very likely be gone by tomorrow. After having lost people that way enough times, you had to learn how to avoid getting attached, lest you wanted to be heartbroken for the rest of your days, however long or short that time might be. Aiden could still drink and laugh with them, but it was with a fleeting fondness. When the morning after came around, you had to be prepared let go.

In a way, meeting Hancock had reawakened a part of him he had thought lost; caring what happened to himself, and caring about what happened to others. Empathy was nothing you could keep up if you had to raid people for a living. Beating a farmer half to death because he refused to hand over the last of his crops, crops he pleaded that he needed in order to feed his family, is not something you can do and still keep your morals. There were no ‘nice’ Raiders, just different degrees of assholes. Morals had no place in a Raider camp.

_ When did the mere thought of getting killed get me riled up? When had it stopped bothering me in the first place? _

A pressing atmosphere had settled over their table. While Nate appeared to be unaffected by the earlier discussion, MacCready was now eying Aiden with a heavy dose of distrust. Aiden did not dare look in Hancock’s direction, afraid of what he might see.

Nate reopened the bottle of Whiskey and filled up all of their glasses before he spoke. “Now that you two are done moping," Nate commented with a pointed look in both Hancock’s and Aiden’s direction. “How about a good old drinking game?”

Aiden had the mind to silence the groan that threatened to slip out, and chose instead to bury his head in his hands.

_ Yes, ‘cause what could possible go wrong with getting hammered in this company? _

 


	14. Chapter 14

“Ever played ‘bullshit’?" Nate asked the others at the table. Aiden shook his head in dissent, which he assumed Hancock did as well based on Nate’s reaction.

“Can’t say that I have," answered MacCready.

“The rules are easy; the best bullshitter wins," Nate stated like the name of the game had not given that particular fact away. “The one ‘bullshitting’ comes up with a story, a fact, or anything else that could be either true or false. The guy on the right of the ‘bullshitter’ tries to guess if the statement is true or false. Guy gets it right, the ‘bullshitter’ drinks. Guy gets it wrong, the guy drinks. Questions?”

“Yeah," answered Hancock. “Did you just make that game up?”

Nate just gave Hancock a flirtatious wink. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Aiden tried very hard to not let it bother him, while Hancock just huffed and leaned back in his seat before he mumbled something about  _ getting the fuck on with it _ .

“And what do you win?" asked Aiden, just slightly peeved by Nate and his excessive flirting habits.

“Honor and glory," Nate answered without blinking.

_ How the hell can he say that with a straight face? _

“Any questions? No? Great," Nate concluded on their behalf. “So, to help you along, I’ll start," he said, clearing his throat before continuing. “So last week up in Sanctuary, a horde of Super Mutants tried their luck against the defences we’d set up. Despite all the walls and turrets, a couple of them fought their way through our defenses. Suddenly, there were two lumbering mutants running straight for me. Lucky for me, I had the perfect secret weapon. I managed to fend them off with the help of a -" said Nate before adding a dramatic pause, evaluating each and everyone of their expressions. “Teddy bear."

There was a collective silence as the group tried to picture the blue clad Vault dweller fighting a mutant with his apparent weapon of choice.

“I call bullcrap on that one," said MacCready.

“Why’s that?" said Nate with the biggest smile on his lips that Aiden has ever seen him wear. Whether it was a genuine smile or not, was impossible to discern.

_ This guy is a total enigma, and I can’t fucking get a read on him. He’s just as likely to shoot me as he is to refill my whiskey. _

“‘Cause despite all the junk you pick up, I’ve never seen you pick up a teddy bear. And if you’d wanted to make the story credible, you’d have tossed something heavy, like, idunno, one of those typewriters?" answered MacCready.

_ And who the fuck carries around a fucking typewriter? Do all Vault guys have loose screws or somethin’? _

“Sounds reasonable. Too bad for you, the story is true," Nate answered gleefully. “Drink up, R-J."

MacCready just grumbled while he took small gulp of his whiskey.

“That is absolute bullshit," called Aiden. “How the fuck do you kill anyone, anyless a  _ Super Mutant _ , with a stuffed toy?" he asked incredulously.

Nate just gave him a mischievous smile. “If you want to know that, you need to drink."

“That wasn’t in the rules!”

“Is now," is all Nate answered before looking meaningly at MacCready, urging him to start his turn.

MacCready looked to be thinking hard about what story he should tell or what lie he needed to concoct, before eventually making up his mind.

“Oh, I got one," he said, looking to all appearances like the cat that just got milk. “So, Mr. Raider," MacCready started. Aiden gave him a pissed-off look for the jab, but did not further comment on it. “Did you know that .308 bullet can pass through three ferals without stopping?"

“Heh, no. I’d say it can pass through two, at the most," Aiden answered, entirely too sure of himself. “And that is if you somehow managed to line ‘em up and hit them at an impossible angle. Though, I give you credit for choosing a number that could be considered as somewhat credible."

“That’s not nice, R-J," admonished Nate before he turned to Aiden. “I didn’t believe it was possible either until I saw him do it," he added for Aiden’s benefit. “R-J’s is an excellent shot, best I’ve ever seen. He stood just slightly elevated as he fired into a group of them, hit the first one in the neck, took the second one in the arm, and the last one in the stomach. You’d have to be there to believe it, and I tell you, it was amazing."

MacCready seemed to blush at the praise but did not comment, or contradict any of the facts that Nate had stated.

Aiden just gaped at both of them before he found his tongue. “See, if I’d be any less trusting, I’d believe you’re just out to get me drunk," commented Aiden, before he shook his head and drank.

Aiden then turned to Hancock, expecting to see a still grumpy Ghoul staring back at him. Although he was pleasantly surprised by the now rather content mayor that had once again made himself comfortable in his seat, waiting for whatever story (or fact) that Aiden was about to share.

With a mind of it’s own, Aiden felt the corner of his mouth raise in a small half-smile, one that was returned by Hancock and his own cocky grin a second later. Turning away to avoid further embarrassment (like smiling stupidly at the mayor), Aiden tried to come up with a contribution to the game of his own. 

_ Hancock is definitely thinking I’m about to make shit up. He knows, that I know that he knows. Ehh, or something like that. Which means I have to make shit up, because he’ll expect me to tell the truth just to throw him off. _

“So, did you know that before the war, Vodka was actually used as a medicine by esteemed doctors. They used it to treat ammonia by getting the sick person to breath in the fumes."

Hancock looked at Aiden skeptically before he turned to Nate. They shared a look as Nate just laughed quietly to himself before he shrugged his shoulders.

_ The fuck does that guy know? _

“And where’d you learn that?" the Ghoul asked.

Trying to sell the lie, Aiden pretended to try to remember the source. “It was one of those medical journals lying around, think the cover had a kid on it, carrying around a wine bottle for their sick parent, or some shit like that."

Hancock seemed to consider his answer.

“Yeah, you know, I’d almost believe you. Well, if it weren’t for Sole over there pretending he isn’t desperate to laugh out loud. So I’ll call bullshit on that one," Hancock responded. Looking in the Vaulties direction revealed a man coughing into his fist, giving Aiden a curiously genuine ‘don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. Aiden just sighed before he once again took a drink out of his quickly diminishing whiskey.

“The hell does he know, anyway," Aiden mumbled into his glass.

“More than you know, in any case," was Nate’s answer before he, in good nature (as he sort of did help Hancock), drank as well. “Now, Hancock, give me your best lie, or truth if you want."

Hancock grinned like a madman as he started his turn.

A couple of rounds later, and after Nate had once again refilled their glasses, Aiden was starting to feel pleasantly drunk, and a pressing need to wee.

“I’m gonna take a piss," said Aiden as he got up from his seat during Hancock’s turn to bullshit Nate, and walked up the staircase to the ground floor bathroom.

The subway station used to have two bathrooms before the war, as was evident from the signs still adorning the old tile walls. Whether or not the current tenants had needed to remove any debris before building the bar, or for whatever reason, the rubble in the other bathroom had not been cleared away.

Aiden walked into the bathroom which sign indicated that it was once intended for the ‘male’ coded part of the population, and took the stall furthest away from the door.

He opened his pants, and let out a sigh as a trickling sound filled the old bathroom.

The old walls gave him an eerie reminder of how all of this began, why he was even standing there in The Third Rail. Not only did the earlier discussion make him think back on what happened, but it also made him think of what could have happened had circumstances been different. Just standing there, he could almost fool himself that he was still in the same old school bathroom, doing the same thing he had done for the last few years. Even now, he was getting that eerie feeling of being watched.

Two hands hit each side of the stall hard and fast, making Aiden almost jump in fright.

“Hancock, for fuck’s sake," complained Aiden, calming down from having had a powerful deja vu induced heart attack, courtesy of one John Hancock and his antics.

Hancock just laughed.

“Just wanted to make sure you found your way alright," was the excuse he gave from where he stood behind Aiden. As if that would, in any way, validate his presence.

Aiden glanced over his shoulders and was met with a cocky and self assured smile, making his heart skip a beat in response.

“Am I supposed to call bullshit on that, or how does this work," said Aiden in a low and friendly tone. The liquor had made everything a bit soft around the edges, including Hancock in his ridiculous red coat (though, admittedly, it was a nice one).

Aiden finished up, and pulled up his pants before trying to exit the stall. As he tried to exit, his way was blocked by a Ghoul, standing immovable and with one hand on each divider. A Ghoul that looked like he had no intention, whatsoever, of moving out of the way.

“Not to point out the obvious here, but I’m finished," he said, but Hancock did not let him pass. On the contrary, Hancock leaned in even closer to Aiden.

“I can see that," he answered in that extremely deep voice of his, still not letting Aiden get through him. All the while, Aiden did his best not to show how Hancock’s current closeness and that raspy voice was currently affecting him.

_ You are so fucking ridiculous, Aiden. Get a grip. _

Not sure what Hancock was angling for, Aiden tried to force his way past him. It seemed to have worked for a couple of seconds, as he actually managed to take a step past him, but Aiden quickly found a pair of strong arms around his waist, stopping him from further movement.

“Hey, Aiden," Hancock said in a low voice right next to his ear, warm breath caressing the sensitive skin of his earlobe and neck. “How ‘bout we ditch this joint and head on over to the State House?”

Aider tried to get his thoughts in order after the full on frontal assault on his nerve endings, before he spoke. “One, you’re too fucking obvious. If we leave now, there’s no way Mr. Vault Interrogator downstairs won’t know what’s up."

Hancock hummed as he bit into the tendons of Aiden’s neck, acting as if they designated as his personal chewing toys. “Don’t care," he answered grazing his neck with teeth on the verge of too hard, only to follow the marks with soft kisses.

“Two," Aiden began but was distracted by the way Hancock’s lips felt against his skin, losing track of what he wanted to saý. “Two," he tried again. “You’re a fucking tease. Meaning you’re gonna rile me up just to leave me hard and fucking wanting," said Aiden, and bit his lip after he realised he had said too much.

_ Fuck booze and its tendencies to bring out the truth in every situation. _

Hancock buried his laugh in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, which had the immediate effect of making his trousers feel very ill-fitting, very fast. Choking off a moan before it could escape, his knees started to go weak, forcing Hancock to lift more and more of his weight. Though Hancock did not complain, rather the opposite, as he continued to shower Aiden with affection.

“When’s that ever happened," growled Hancock between mouthfuls of skin.

Aiden had to steady himself by clinging onto whatever piece of Hancock he could reach, gasping whenever Hancock bit a spot that was particularly sensitive.

“Like, every time you’ve done this?” Aiden said, trying for incredulous but probably came out as needy more than anything.

Hancock just hummed in acknowledgment that he had heard Aiden, but did not stop his ministrations. “So, my place or yours?" he asked in good humor.

_ Yes, ‘cause that’s  _ really _ the important question here. _

“Hilarious. Aren’t you a funny -" Aiden stopped himself with a gasp, as Hancock decided to choose that moment to bite down on the meaty part of his shoulder, before he continued. “ - funny man."

Again, Hancock just hummed, before he started to guide Aiden and himself, without letting go, towards the exit.

_ Driving a hard fucking bargain there, mayor Hancock. _

Not until they were well outside of the underground bar did Hancock let go of Aiden, only to swing an arm over his shoulder as they continued their trek to the Old State House in as close contact as possible.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains sexual content.

They barely made it up the stairs, mostly due to their own apparent inability to disengage themselves from one another, and partly due to their inebriation, before Hancock decidedly took matters into his own hands and hoisted Aiden up over his shoulder. Under less than honest protesting from Aiden’s side, Hancock carried him the last couple of steps up to the first floor and did not let go of his valuable cargo until he had reached the office, whereupon arrival, he proceeded to unceremoniously dump Aiden on one of the old couches, before walking away to retrieve a bottle of liquor and two glasses from an old office desk.

It was not until after the rather rough landing, that Aiden actually took note of where they were. Followed by panic.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no. Whatever you’re thinking, we’re not doing that in here”, Aiden protested.

“And what would  _ that _ be”, asked Hancock with his back turned to Aiden, pouring liquor into two glasses.

“You know, the  _ thing _ ”, Aiden answered, feeling his cheeks redden.

_ Is Hancock actively trying to be an asshole? Is he gonna force me to fucking spell it out to him? _

Aiden could practically hear Hancock’s smirk. “What thing”.

_ Yep, definitely an asshole. _

“Oh fuck you, you know what I mean”, said Aiden crossing his arms in front of him, doing his best not to notice the way Hancock’s hips moved as he made his way over to the couch, holding the bottle in one hand and two filled glasses in the other.

Hancock put one glass in front of Aiden before settling on the couch beside him.

“What’s wrong with this room?”, asked Hancock, watching Aiden drink while he sipped from his own glass of spirits.

“Beside the fact that you actually invite people over to sit on these couches, and that those two doors won’t lock?”, Aiden asked incredulous, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hancock snorted in disbelief. “Believe me, we aren’t the first owners of these couches. And I highly doubt that the previous ones cared for convention. We can’t really defile the furniture, at least not worse than they already are”.

“That’s, ugh, noted (and totally fucking disgusting)”, Aiden commented, feeling like he was sitting on 200 years of filth, which probably was not too far from the truth.

“And if we’re quiet, no one's gonna be the wiser”, Hancock finished his argument.

Aiden just huffed. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like people could hear you grunt from a floor below”, he mumbled cynically.

Hancock gave him a thoughtful look. The kind of look that questioned the sanity of the subject. “Yeah? According to who?”

_ Fuck, alcohol. Yeah, no, now’s the perfect time to tell him you jerked of to the sound of him having sex with a women. _

Turning eight shades of red, Aiden buried his head in his hands. “It’s nothing”, he answered. Although it was quite obvious Hancock did not believe him, he did not further comment on it.

Aiden took another sip of his drink to compose himself. “But you have to agree that it’s not very private now, is it?”

Hancock hummed in assent. “Right, forgot that you were a bit shy”, he commented with a small grin.

Aiden threw a reproachful look in Hancock’s direction. “That’s  _ not _ what this is about”.

As Hancock met Aiden’s gaze, he must have quickly realised that his rather thoughtless comment had provoked a less than ideal reaction from the ex-raider. Giving out a resigned sigh, he got up from the couch and reached out a hand to Aiden. “Look, I’m not out to piss you off. If you don’t feel comfortable here, we move elsewhere”.

Taking the offered hand, Aiden pulled himself up from the couch. “And where would that be?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna invite myself over to your room, but it’s the only one I know of where Fahr actually knocks before entering”.

Considering how they had been interrupted last time, being in a room where they would not be spontaneously disrupted by the ever-watchful bodyguard, seemed like a pretty good idea indeed.

“Fine”, Aiden conceded. “Consider yourself cordially invited to my humble abode, then”, he said, and started walking in the direction of his sleeping quarters.

“Wiseass”, Hancock mumbled good naturedly, putting a smile on Aiden’s lips, before he followed Aiden’s lead.

_ When did wiseass become an endearment? _

As they reached the door to Aiden’s small bedroom, Aiden was overly aware of Hancock’s presence just a short step behind him. He could both hear the rustle of the centuries old wool clothing, and feel the heat of the man wearing them.

_ This is actually happening. _

Somehow, and somewhere between the office and his room, Aiden had developed a hint of trepidation for what was to come, fueled by the mayor’s apparent enthusiasm, first displayed in the Third Rail bathroom and then later on in the office. It was not cold feet per say, but rather a small case of performance anxiety, fearing that Hancock would not only realise Aiden’s rather limited experience in that department, but also realise he had almost no experience in that department. When he opened the door, he fully expected to be thrown to the bed and be completely ravaged, which perhaps would not be so bad as Hancock’s initiative would probably cover up Aiden’s own floundering. The mood would probably be restored and Aiden would not need to stop and think. Because thinking was clearly the mortal enemy of his labido.

Moving in a self-conscious way, Aiden opened the door to his sleeping quarters and took a step inside, anticipating Hancock’s next move. When the ghoul actually did move, it was definitely not in the way Aiden had predicted.

A hand was gently placed on the small of his back, neither pushing nor hurried. He could feel the thumb smoothly stroke his back outside of his clothes, in a soothing and calming motion.

“You sure you want this”, came the soft question from the owner of the hand.

Aiden’s hesitance must have been more obvious than he thought.

“I do”, Aiden answered, but refused to turn around to acknowledge the man. Hancock let go of him right before he heard the door being closed. The only light now visible came from a lit lantern, bathing the room in hues of red, gold and yellow.

“Get on the bed, then”, came the quiet command from behind him.

_ Sure, I can do orders. Orders are fine, just don’t let me think. _

Aiden barely nodded before he got onto the bed, shedding his shoes on the way but not much else. As he turned around, Hancock had not made a move to follow, apparently preferring to lean against the wall next to the door.

_ Fuck. He’s not gonna follow through. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What do I do? _

Panic gripped Aiden’s heart, forcing him to act rather than talk. Trying his best not to show his unease, Aiden tried to pat the bed next to him, visibly making room for Hancock to get in. But the mayor displayed no intention of walking on over to the bed.

“Talk to me, Aiden”.

_ No, no, no. No talking. Not now. _

“How ‘bout we talk later, and you get into bed with me, now?” Aiden tried for cockiness, but realised as soon as he saw Hancock’s expression darken that he had not managed to convince him.

Hancock did not respond to Aiden’s rather forward request, though he did seem to consider Aiden thoroughly. He stood there thinking for what felt like minutes (probably closer to seconds) before reaching some type of conclusion, as he finally made his way across the small room and settled in bed next to Aiden.

Again, Aiden’s heartbeat seemed to live a life of its own, beating like he had just made a mad dash across the Boston Common.

“Now”, Hancock spoke close to his ear, causing Aiden to do everything in his power not to shiver. Preparing himself to once again get seduced and getting into the mood, the end of the Hancock’s sentence came as a bit of a surprise. “Now, we talk”.

“What? Now? Really?” Aiden asked, totally thrown off and confused about where this was going.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to bed you”, Hancock reasoned. “But not when you’re looking like you’re having second thoughts. Not unless I’m convinced those second thoughts have nothing to do with this”, he said and gestured between himself and Aiden.

Aiden just covered his face with his arm and groaned in frustration.

“Come on”, Aiden pleaded, still hiding his face. “Ignore it. Just, do something”.

“I will, after you’ve used those fancy words of yours to communicate what you’re thinking”.

Aiden let out a noise of annoyance. “I really don’t like this topic of conversation”.

“So I’ve figured. And I don’t like having unwilling partners. So how about you convince me that you’re not freaked out by having a ghoul in bed with you, then we’ll discuss how to move on from there”.

“That’s not what this is about”, Aiden stated fiercely, refuting any claim that Hancock would be the reason Aiden had gotten nervous.

“Then we can at least agree there’s something else that’s causing you to freak out”.

The metaphorical quicksand was quickly burying Aiden, who wanted nothing else than for the night to carry on like it had before. Well, previous to the point where he got anxious that he might not measure up to whatever Hancock was expecting of him. Realising that Hancock would not give in, Aiden decided to talk.

“I’m not used to, to this”, was all he said, closing his eyes, wishing that Hancock would either understand the sentiment of the expression, or choose not to comment further on it. No such luck apparently.

“Kid”, said Hancock, stroking a hand through Aiden’s hair. The touch caused every single of Aiden’s muscle to go lax, making him sigh in relief as the earlier tension left his body. “I’m gonna need you to be a bit more specific than that”.

Taking a deep breath, Aiden tried to put words to his thoughts. “I’m not used to this. I dunno, affection? People not wanting to kill me? I’m not sure how I’m supposed to phrase this”.

Hancock paused a bit, clearly thinking about Aiden’s words, before he continued using his fingertips to lightly graze his scalp.

“Not to be an asshole or anything, but how the hell do you guys reproduce if you don’t get intimate with each other? What, you’ve found some new way of fornication that don’t require you to be in close vicinity to others?”

_ Oh oh. No, no no no. Cease the thought, Hancock. That is not where I wanted this conversation to go. _

Hancock must have felt Aiden tense, because he suddenly withdrew his hand.

“Wait, is that the problem? You’re a -”.

“Please don’t”.

Hancock positioned himself on top of Aiden, boxing him in by placing an elbow on each side of his head.

“Don’t, what? Talk about the fact that you’re a virgin?”

“No, and how ‘bout you just drop it?”, Aiden responded, trying to turn away from Hancock to hide his fierce blush.

“Not a chance. But I’ll be more careful not to make you feel uncomfortable, if that’s any relief”.

“Fuck off”, Aiden responded vehemently.

Hancock leaned closer. “If you don’t want to talk about what you haven’t done, then tell me what you have done. What are you comfortable with?”

“Anything that isn’t this conversation”.

Hancock’s eyes narrowed before a thought seem to hit him, followed by a small certain smile.

“If that’s what you want”, was all he said.

_ As attractive as he is smiling, I’m equally as fucking terrified of what thought just passed through his head. _

Hancock rolled off of Aiden to rest on his side, positioning himself so that he and Aiden lied face to face with each other. Aiden was tense, looking expectantly at Hancock, silently asking him to  _ please _ make the next move, preferably  _ soon _ .

Without saying a word and carefully telegraphing his every movement, Hancock used his free hand to card through Aiden’s hair a couple of times. Just as before, Aiden relaxed against him, letting Hancock take the reins without any arguments.

Ensuring that Aiden was no longer in fight or flight mode, he used the same hand, placing it on his neck, thoughtfully stroking the angle of his jaw with his thumb, following the line of his neck to the hollow of his throat and up again.

“We don’t have to do anything else than this”, Hancock said, trying to calm Aiden. Though it had very much the opposite effect. “I won’t pressure you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with”. 

_ Will he just, fucking, drop it. _

Aiden groaned. “It’s not like I haven’t done anything at all, like ever. We fumbled around a bit. But it was never, like, what’d you call it? Intimate?”

“Yeah?”, Hancock encouraged him to continue, letting his hand slide down Aiden’s neck, down his collarbone and chest, to rest on his hip. “And how much fumbling are we talking ‘bout?”.

Groaning in despair, having lost his patience sometime after Hancock suggested they talk about  _ their feelings _ , Aiden forcibly took Hancock’s hand and placed it where he wanted it.

“You have any other questions you feel like sharing? Oh, and if you continue to tease me like you did last time, I’ll fucking stab you”, Aiden threatened, gesturing for the knife Hancock had in his belt.

“Such a vixen you are”, said Hancock with a fond expression, and proceeded to roll Aiden to lie on top of him this time. “I like it. Well, excluding the stabbing part”.

Hancock placed his hands on Aiden’s hip, securing him. “Though, I’m gonna need you to move up a bit for what I was planning”.

Confused as to what Hancock was referring to, Aiden just raised an eyebrow, looking down on the man below him. To demonstrate, Hancock grabbed Aiden, positioning him closer to his own face, so that he instead of sitting on the man’s lower abdomen, Aiden were now straddling his chest.

_ The hell’s he going with this? _

Hancock used his hands to follow the path of Aiden’s thighs, up and down, front to back.

“Comfortable?”, he asked, gauging Aiden’s reaction.

“Not the softest seat I’ve sat on, but whatever”, said Aiden, trying to foresee what Hancock’s next move could be.

Hancock hummed in response, before he slid his hands to the back of Aiden’s upper thighs, grabbing on to him before lifting him up. Aiden was unsure what the aim was for the ghoul’s rather determined manipulation of him, and it was not until Aiden’s privates were in line with Hancock’s face, and more specifically his mouth, that he finally caught on.

Noticing that Aiden had figured it out, Hancock raised his head questioningly. “This ok?”, he asked, warm breath heating the fabric of his pants, right over his groin.

Aiden’s cheeks heated up instantly, and the anticipation caused his stomach to tighten as he felt himself harden. Somewhat breathless, Aiden nodded in response, pushing out a quiet ‘fuck yes’, sure that Hancock must have understood the affirmative answer.

Feeling Hancock’s firm and strong hands once again lift him closer to his face, he was urged to tilt his upper body forward, to lean over Hancock and to let his arms take most of his weight. That gave him the perfect angle to watch as Hancock positioned his mouth just above Aiden’s arousal. Separated only by a couple of layers of fabric, he felt the moment Hancock put his mouth softly against him, and then proceeded to follow the contours of his bulge with his lips.

Aiden’s breath hitched, and he had to close his eyes to calm down from the sudden onslaught of sensations. He felt how his pants was slowly getting warmer from Hancock’s breath, making him harder for every passing second.

Hancock’s hand were holding his hips in a token of restraint, controlling both his movement and the pace of which Aiden could push forward. Had Aiden really wanted to remove himself, he would have no problem with breaking free. Laying on top also provided him an alternative escape route if he would want to stop. Though the thought of stopping could not be farther from his mind. 

For every minute that passed, Aiden found it more and more difficult to keep down the quiet moans and breathless whines he emitted, excitement growing as Hancock continued to pleasure him, and without removing that last teasing barrier that separated that talented mouth from his skin.

When Aiden felt Hancock use his tongue to carefully lick along the seam of the fly to his pants, causing his last barrier of defence to break. Aiden let out an embarrassed moan before he had the mind to silence it, his arm muscles shaking before giving out, causing him to collapse down on his elbows. The fact that his pants were now starting to feel damp rather than just hot from Hancock’s breath, just added to the feeling of indecency.

Having reached his limit, Aiden tried to get Hancock to move on. “Please”, Aiden pleaded. “Take them off”. He tried to remove the pants himself, but Hancock had caught his hand before he could do more than just nudge the hem down a bit. Whimpering in desperation while trying to push himself closer to the source of pleasure, he grasped the bed linens like his life depended on it.

“I will, soon”, mumbled Hancock without lifting his lips from where he was ravishing Aiden, his voice causing tremors to travel throughout his body, giving Aiden a delicious jolt of pleasure, before he continued to use his mouth and tongue to make Aiden’s pants would stick to the skin beneath.

The frustration was mounting, and Aiden started to bite down on a knuckle to keep the level of noise to a minimum.

He felt Hancock stop for a moment. Curious as to what had caused it, Aiden looked down and was met Hancock’s black eyes, his face cast in warm shadows from the light of the lantern.

“You loud, Aiden?”, he asked with a rougher voice than normal, clearly proving that Aiden was not the only one who was affected by the current events.

“What kind of question is that?”, Aiden asked, more than a little bit short of breath.

Hancock moved his hands and slowly pulled Aiden’s pants and underwear down, little by little, and just low enough for his length to be freed from its earlier wet confines.

Aiden felt completely exposed in the way the ghoul was currently observing him; naked but still with his pants mostly on, causing his length to jump in response to the attention. The ghoul used his hands to slowly caress his behind and the backside of his thigh, gently pushing Aiden towards his mouth, a request he eagerly obliged. When he was close enough, Hancock took a careful hold of him at the base and proceeded to swallow him down as far as he could go.

Aiden shouted out his pleasure, before covering his mouth with one hand, an embarrassed blush spreading all the way up to his ears. He could feel Hancock’s laughter through his entire body, almost causing him to immediately tip over the edge.

Slowly pulling Aiden out of his mouth, Hancock teased the head with the tip of his tongue, tasting him with apparent delight.

“Guess I was right then; you are loud”, said Hancock snickering, while lapping Aiden’s desire.

As much as Aiden wanted to be outraged over being made fun of in this situation, it was impossible to stay focused on anything else than Hancock’s mouth. Every wet caress sent an electrical shock of arousal through his entire body.

The ex-raider was making clearly audible sounds despite trying his best to stay silent, gasping loudly whenever Hancock hit an overly sensitive spot, reacting both vocally and bodily in response to Hancock’s every move.

That curling ball of arousal in the lower parts of his stomach got ever so tighter, and Aiden choked out a groan as he felt his balls start to constrict. “Close”, he whispered hotly, before again covering his mouth to hinder more embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“Already?” Hancock teased, using his thumb to follow the contour of the now prominent vein along the underside of Aiden’s arousal, causing Aiden to gasp and whine while doing his best not to shoot early.

“Please”, Aiden begged brokenly.

“Please, as in you want to come? Or please as in you want me to stop? You’re gonna need to be a little more specific”, Hancock asked, now licking the same path his thumb had followed just seconds ago.

A sound of desperation and absolute frustration left Aiden’s throat, while he tried to claw the sheets to stop the inevitable from happening. “Please..!”, he practically sobbed.

He was so close, and Hancock was just giving him light touches, pushing him further and further to the precipice, but never quite enough to push him over it. He was gasping for breath and aching for release.

He heard Hancock’s laughter before he once again felt wet heat encompass his entire length, this time without pause. Hancock continued to devour him, pushing him deeper into his mouth until Aiden hit the back of Hancock’s throat. Aiden could feel Hancock swallow around him, feel the soft tissue of his throat surround and caress his sensitive head, wetting it, enveloping it and worshipping it, before letting Aiden slide down just a little bit further.

It took moments. Aiden opened his mouth in a silent scream, toes curling as he let out an animalistic whine, feeling the coil of arousal release like fireworks, before everything whited out.

He came back to himself, feeling the ghoul swallow down the remains of his climax, cleaning the oversensitized head, before releasing him.

_ He, he actually swallowed? Everything? Fuck, that’s...! _

Aiden moaned, feeling his length twitch in a valiant attempt to get up again, even though he was way too tired to do anything about it.

Hancock helped move Aiden to lie down beside him on the bed, Aiden who was still panting as Hancock draped him over his own body.

“Still with me, sunshine?”, Hancock asked, combing back Aiden’s sweat matted hair from his face.

Aiden tried to give Hancock some type of acknowledgement, but it came out as more of a grunt. Burying his head in Hancock’s neck and breathing deep was as much of a confirmation he could manage. With the last vestiges of his consciousness, he felt a couple of dry lips press against his forehead in a tender kiss, just before he slipped into deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! :3


	16. Chapter 16

“I knew it”, Aiden declared triumphantly. “I fucking knew it”, said Aiden, standing in the State House Office with Hancock and Fahrenheit. 

When Aiden had woken up this morning, there had been no sign of Hancock. Whether he had left just as Aiden had fallen asleep or if he had stayed for the night, he had no way of telling.

_ It’s not really a big bed, so it’s not like he had a reason to stay. I don’t blame him. _

The only thing he did know is that he had slept better last night than any other night for as long as he could remember. So, to wake up to an empty bed was a bit of a bummer. Especially since Aiden had this tiny bit of conscious that kept poking him for turning comatose just after he had been serviced. Which made absolutely no sense as Hancock never had given voice to what he wanted.

_ “... I’d love to bed you...” _

Okay, sure, he was pretty obvious about what he wanted. But if he had wanted Aiden to reciprocate last night, would he not have woken him up?

_ Probably not. _

Getting back to the situation at hand, Fahrenheit did what she usually did in the company of Aiden; ignored him. Hancock just laughed softly in response to Aiden’s gleeful outburst.

“Hey”, Aiden said, pointing accusingly at Hancock. “Don’t you dare diminish my victory here”.

Hancock just lifted his hands in a token of surrender, walking past Aiden to look at the items currently spread out on one of the tables in the office, having been brought in earlier by Fahrenheit.

“That’s some nice armor”, he said, lifting each of the parts individually to inspect them. “Better than whatever you were wearing when you stepped in here”.

Aiden huffed in feigned indignation. “I’ll have you know that those were the result of several years of scavenging and –“.

“And robbing people blind, I know”, Hancock cut in.

Even though Aiden’s past was still a sensitive subject for the both of them (well, more so for Hancock than Aiden), they were now able to at least reference it without arguing to the point of fighting.

_ I guess screaming at each other in a bar can have some positive effects. _

“Not what I was going to call it, but whatever”, Aiden finished dejectedly.

“No, but that was what you meant”, Hancock countered, leaving it at that. “You gonna try it on?”

Aiden felt his stomach jump in anticipation as he stepped up to the desk where a custom made set of leather armor were currently on display, ready for usage. It may not have been new, but it was still in good condition. Even more so after Daisy had put in effort to customize the size to fit Aiden’s stature.

Not willing to repeat the same mistake he had done in ‘Daisy’s discounts’, Aiden was careful of the buckles that held the chest piece together, as he got himself geared up.

“Well, well, would you look at that”, Hancock said when Aiden had tightened the last buckle. Hancock appraised him thoroughly, walking around him in a circle to properly examine him. 

Aiden had no doubt that the leering Hancock subjected him to had nothing to do with the armor he was wearing.

“I’d say that’s a nice fit. Wouldn’t you say, Fahr?”

“That’s to be expected, for what you’re paying for it”, she commented, throwing a glance in Aiden’s direction.

“Right, right”, Hancock answered in a distracted way, evidently paying more attention to Aiden than to what Fahrenheit was saying. “Feel like trying it out for real?”, he asked Aiden after having completed a full circle.

_ ‘For real’? The fuck is ‘for real’ in this context? _

“I know that you’re really good at grappling and all”, Aiden began, a bit uncertain. “But I’ve yet to master the arts of falling, and have no inclination of doing so. So I’d rather you don’t throw me up in the air the first thing you do”.

It was easy to tell when Hancock got an idea, especially one that Aiden, in all likelihood, would not appreciate. He got this mischievous glint in his eye before he started to grin like a madman. 

“Oh, I dunno, I think you’re pretty good at falling”, he said as he stepped closer to Aiden.

Realising that he had just handed Hancock an idea on a platter, and feeling less than appreciative of the thought of being thrown to the ground (no matter the scenario), Aiden started to slowly back away from the ghoul, who in turn followed him like a predator.

“Hancock”, Fahrenheit interrupted before Hancock got any closer to Aiden. Ensuring she had his attention before continuing. “You were saying”.

Hancock paused, a bit lost, before he seemed to remind himself of what he was originally going to say. “Oh right, right. So, I was planning to take a look around the neighbourhood to see if there’s any movement from any of our neighbours”, he said, giving Aiden some space so he now was able focus on Hancock’s words rather than protecting himself. “There’s one colony of super mutants not far from here, and we don’t want them moving any closer than they already are. So we’re gonna have a quick look, see if they indeed have moved, and then  _ persuade _ them to back off a bit”, Hancock explained while Aiden listened attentively, nodding every once in awhile. “Ya’ feel like comin’ with?”

_ Oh, fuck yes! Chill, play it cool, Aiden. Play it cool. _

Aiden just casually shrugged his shoulders. “Sure”, he answered. “But I’m gonna need some ‘tools’ for this persuasion of yours”.

Hancock nodded before looking at Fahrenheit.

Fahrenheit turned to Aiden. “We’re not going to let you walk around armed when you’re in town, but you won’t have to go unarmed outside the gates”, she said, and headed for office doors.

Just as she was about to leave, she turned back to Aiden. “You coming?”, she asked pointedly.

“Oh, yeah, sure”, he answered and started after her.

“I’ll meet you at the gates”, Hancock called after Aiden as he was walking down the staircase, which Aiden acknowledged casually with a wave over his shoulder.

Well outside, Aiden felt curiosity get the better of him. Last time he and Fahrenheit had shared some private time together, she had pointed a gun at him, forcing him to pledge allegiance, before giving him free reigns in Goodneighbor. Because he so far had been allowed to do practically what he wanted, as per Fahrenheits ‘do as you wish but be home before dinner’ speech, he wanted to know why they were so adamant about not allowing him to walk around with a firearm.

“So, you don’t trust me yet, then”, he stated, not really looking to provoke her but rather gauge her general opinion towards him.

“What I think in this matter is not important. Regardless of your relation to me or the mayor, you need to gain the trust of the town first before we can allow you to be openly armed”, was her answer, as she stepped into Goodneighbor’s arms shop, right next to the Old State House.

Aiden had read the sign on his first entry to town; ‘Kill or be killed’. And the name was not the only thing that had discouraged him to enter.

“Hello there, killer”, the Assaultron greeted Fahrenheit as she stepped into the shop before Aiden.

There was something very, very disturbing with having a robot speak with you about massacre and slaughter in a sultry voice. Especially one that not only came equipped with high-powered lasers for hands, but also had a full arsenal of weapons at their disposal. Had Fahrenheit not entered first, Aiden would probably have backed out of the store immediately. He had seen first hand what an Assaultron was capable of, and what their lasers could do to human flesh at close range.

“Hi Kleo. Got something for me?”, Fahrenheit asked as she stepped up to the counter.

“Anything and all, honey”, KL-E-0 answered, using what probably could count as seductive mannerism, but rather raised the hairs in Aiden’s neck for an entirely different reason.

“Aiden”, said Fahrenheit, causing Aiden to focus his attention on her instead of the killing machine behind her.

Aiden hummed in response, trying to not gain the attention of KL-E-0 from where he was standing, right next to the shop exit.

“Anything you feel more comfortable with handling?”, Fahrenheit asked, gesturing for him to have a pick of whatever the shop was selling.

“Bullets”, Aiden answered meekly, not moving from where he was standing. “Guns with bullets”.

KL-E-0 seemed to light up due to that answer. As in physically glow brighter in response to it.

“Oh, I have a wide assortment of guns, baby. You’re gonna need to be a bit more specific than that”, she answered, leaning over the counter in a way that would display her cleavage, had she actually possessed one. As it was, it only made Aiden want to back away from her, preferably very far.

“Umm”, said Aiden as he tried to take step backwards, but immediately hit the wall. “Ummm”.

“Don’t worry, baby”, KL-E-0 tried to comfort the terrified ex-raider that were currently cowering towards the wall. “I only test my weapons on people that deserves it”.

_ Not. Helping. _

“Ummmm”, Aiden said, looking pleadingly in Fahrenheit’s direction.

Fahrenheit just gave him a look saying ‘you’re the one that asked for this’.

“You know”, Aiden began in a slightly higher tone than what he would normally use. “I think Daisy might have an assortment of guns matching my preference”.

“‘Sup Kleo”, came from the entrance of the shop. Aiden turned his head and was met with Nate and MacCready walking straight up to the counter. MacCready was especially making himself comfortable by leaning his elbows on top of it. “Got any .308 laying around with my name on them?”

“For you, darling? Always”, the Assaultron answered, retrieving a couple of ammo cartons, placing them on the counter.

“Awesome. You need anything, Sole?”, MacCready said throwing a look over his shoulder, causing him noticing Aiden standing next to the entrance. “Well hello there Mr. Raider, what’ya doing round these parts of town?”

Aiden’s eyes widened, afraid that the shopkeeper would take the ‘raider’ comment as a go-ahead to shoot him. He quickly looked in the direction of the robot in order to determine how fast he had to get out of the shop should it start firing.

“Ehhmm, is he all right?”, MacCready asked Fahrenheit.

Fahrenheit just shrugged her shoulders. “Seems he’s afraid of Kleo”.

MacCready seemed to do a double take on that. “Why?”

Fahrenheit again, just shrugged her shoulders.

During MacCready’s and Fahrenheit’s exchange, Nate had moved to stand next to Aiden, right in the line of sight between Aiden and the Assaultron.

“If you really want to get on her good side, you should probably buy something”, Nate said in an effort to comfort Aiden. “She never shoots good customers”.

“Yeah, sure. And you just casually offer advice to people you don’t like”, Aiden answered cynically.

Nate just raised an eyebrow in response. “Are you always this distrustful?”

“Hey, Aiden”, MacCready called from behind Nate, interrupting their exchange. “Rifle or pistol?”

Aiden stared at the vault dweller, trying to determine what he and the mercenary were doing. Nate just shrugged his shoulders, conveying that he had nothing to do with this. “Why?”, Aiden answered MacCready after a while, more than a little suspicious.

“No reason. Which do prefer?”

He could not see MacCready due to the lumbering presence of Nate, and therefore had no idea what he was doing. “A rifle”, he answered, albeit reluctantly.

“Short, long or medium range?”

Not sure where this was headed, but realising that it probably would not do him any harm to share that information, Aiden played along.

“Medium to far”.

“Check. And caliber?”.

“.44 or .38. Where are you going with this?”

“You’ll see. Oh, and where those requests based on what you use when shooting those crappy pipe-rifles you guys seem to favour, or do you actually have a valid opinion in regards to caliber? ‘Cause if not, I’ll ignore your request for a rifle that shoots .38 ammo”.

Miffed by MacCready’s rather pretentious tone, Aiden felt the need to defend himself. “I’ve always used pipe-rifles, and they use .44 or .38, and they fire just fine”.

“I’m sure they do”, MacCready answered indifferently, clearly not believing a single word Aiden just uttered. “You use scopes?”

Aiden huffed. “It happens, but it’s not a usual occurrence”, he said while crossing his arms over his chest.

Nate gave him a strange look before he looked over his shoulder at what MacCready was doing. Aiden himself was getting more than a little curious. Just as he was about to brave the sight of the Assaultron and step around Nate to see for himself, MacCready showed up carrying a fully decked Combat Rifle.

“And there you go”, he said, handing the gun over to Aiden for him to inspect it.

The rifle was obviously customised. Stock, barrel and sight had all been upgraded from their originals, every modifications done with both care and expertise.

“A bit heavier than what I’m used to, but I guess it’ll do”, Aiden said while he fastened a shoulder strap to the gun’s fastenings, in order to comfortably carry the rifle on his back during travels.

MacCready made a face of disgust before commenting. “That’s because you’re used to crappy make-shift raider-rifles. That there is a real rifle”.

“I can see that”, mumbled Aiden, actually quite impressed with the workmanship. He was unsure whether he was supposed to thank MacCready or Fahrenheit for the weapon, and elected for neither to avoid embarrassing himself.

Fahrenheit handed him a couple of boxes with ammo, which Aiden pocketed before exiting the store after her, carrying the gun on his back and deliberately avoiding to glance back at the murder machine.

“Took you long enough”, Hancock commented when he finally caught sight of Aiden.

Before Aiden had come up with a good answer for the implied question, MacCready decided to assist him. “Well, if you’re afraid of the one selling the guns, it might take some time to do any shopping”.

_ Helpful, very helpful. _

If MacCready had not spent the last five minutes with picking out a gun for him, Aiden might have considered to retaliate. As it were, he was still too grateful to get overly annoyed over the way the mercenary carelessly spoke about the ordeal. He settled for staring at MacCready in displeasure, hoping he would turn around to see it.

“Afraid of Kleo?”, Hancock asked like it was the strangest notion he had ever heard, like the thought had never even occurred to him.

“No, I have a healthy skepticism for live Assaultrons that others claim are friendly. Kept me alive so far”, Aiden defended his behaviour, getting a snort in response from Hancock.

MacCready just glanced at him over his shoulder. “If that’s what you wanna call it”, he commented cheekily, making Aiden clench his fist to avoid hitting the pompous bastard.

Clearly trying to avoid another incident of Aiden trying to murder MacCready, Hancock decided to intervene early. “So, you ready to scout out our neighbours?”, Hancock said, directing the question at Aiden.

Turning his attention to Hancock instead of imagining creative ways to off the mercenary,  Aiden checked the shoulder strap fastenings for his gun. “Ready as ever”, he commented, ignoring MacCready. For now.

Hancock gave a small nod in acknowledgement before he turned to MacCready and Nate. “You heading off, Sole?”

Nate pointed his thumb over his shoulder at ‘Daisy’s discounts’ before answering. “Gotta stock up first. We’ll should still here when you get back, though”.

“Then we’ll see ya’ later then”, Hancock said for goodbyes and turned to leave.

“Stay safe”, Nate responded.

“Oh, I intend to”, answered Hancock, giving Aiden a brief glance, before turning around to leave Goodneighbor with him in tow.


	17. Chapter 17

Aiden took a deep breath of the rank and stale Boston air, letting it out in an unhurried pace. It had been such a long time since he had smelt that distinct combination of radiation, rot and salt water, a stench that was unique to Boston, that he had almost forgotten the feeling of having the fine hairs in the nose burned. Aiden felt as if he could stand there, just outside the gate of Goodneighbor, and just take it all in; the smells, the scenery, the very energy the city still radiated (although, that could be the result of actual radiation).

He was content for all about seven seconds (admittedly longer than he would usually be standing in one place with nothing to do), until Aiden reminded himself of the reason they were out here in the first place; to eradicate a nest of mutants.

All thoughts of relish were quickly forgotten, replaced by anticipation for the upcoming fight. Aiden was almost giddy with excitement.

“Fuck yes. I was itching for somethin’ to happen," he said, trying to warm up his joints from having had to stay put during his time in Goodneighbor, using his muscles for what felt like the first time in weeks.

“That so? ‘Cause if you’re bored I could probably find something for you to do," said Hancock with a flirtatious grin, the implication of ‘something’ being of some obvious sexual nature.

“Not what I meant," he groaned under his breath, although he was fully aware that Hancock probably heard him anyway.

He and Hancock made their way alongside the walls of the ruined highrises, moving at a cautious pace, vigilant of any and all changes in the environment around them.

“You a good shot, Aiden?" Hancock asked after a while of walking.

“Well, I aim at things, pull the trigger, and things end up being dead. Not sure what more you’d want," he answered.

Hancock let out a puff of air in response. “Yeah? Had any friendly fire incidents?”

Aiden frowned.

_Well, that’s an odd question._

“Why’d you ask?”

Hancock rolled his shoulder in much the same way Aiden had done earlier, throwing a watchful glance around to determine that they were still alone before he spoke. “No reason. I’d rather avoid being shot in the back, though. If it’s all the same to you."

Aiden snorted. “Yeah, sure. Nah, I wouldn’t call them _incidents,_  though. Sometimes I take pot shots at the people in front of me, seeing how many times I can get away with it without them noticing. I don’t want to brag, but I got a one-fucking-hundred percent success rate so far."

Hancock snorted, throwing an unimpressed look over his shoulder. “You know, it’s considered cheating if you shoot them in the head," Hancock countered lightheartedly.

“Says you,” Aiden huffed, as if the thought of being called a cheater was seriously off putting, however nonsensical and hypothetical the topic of discussion was.

“You can bet that ass of yours I do. So, should I be worried?”

“Of what? Being shot? Sure, that’s how most people met their end in the ‘wealth.”

“I was thinkin’ more in the lines of being shot by you.”

“Me? Nah. I can’t hit for shit. You got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

Hancock scoffed. “Well, in that case,” Hancock trailed off, before shooting him a dirty look.

Aiden beamed like he had just been given a complement rather than a cynical remark. He  smiled with his entire being, a smile Hancock inadvertently returned while looking at Aiden from his periphery. Realising that he was standing there grinning like an idiot, Aiden looked away, trying to wipe the smile off his face.

_When was the last time I smiled at something just ‘cause it felt right? Fuck, I’m getting way too sentimental for this._

After walking in a comfortable silence for a minute, Aiden decided to answer Hancock’s original question. “So, yeah, I’m not the best shot by any means. But I’m definitely not the worst one either. Like I said, I hit what I aim at, but I usually don’t go for targets that are, like, a mile away. Up to you what you consider is ‘good’. I’m not gonna go and do a repeat of whatever stunt that green-hatted mercenary pulled. Well, not any time soon.”

Hancock stopped at that, and turned to look at Aiden with an unreadable expression, opening his mouth to either refute or confirm Aiden’s statement. But before he was able to utter a single word, a growling voice interrupted him.

“Huh, what was that?”

Both of them whipped around in the direction they had heard the voice. Not fifty yards away, stood a group of two super mutants and a super mutant master, the master sniffing the air like an animal.

Aiden felt as Hancock gripped one of the buckles for his leather chest piece, and dragged Aiden and himself in behind the cover of an old car wreck. Due to the force of which the ghoul pulled him, Aiden ended up falling to the ground when they were in safety, Hancock crouching down beside him, smooth as a cat.

“Well,” Hancock started, looking down where Aiden was lying on his back. “I wouldn’t ever accuse you of being graceful, that’s for sure," Hancock said in response to Aiden’s less than elegant landing.

“You just like the fact that I _fall_ for you," Aiden retorted, pushing himself off the dirty pavement.

“You know, I usually don’t get the urge to punch people in the face, especially not those whose dick I’ve had in my mouth. But you have this weird aura that makes me want to make all kind of exceptions," said Hancock, cocking his shotgun and taking aim in the direction of the mutants.

In response to Hancock’s comment, and the memory of what that mouth was capable of, Aiden cheeks were dusted pink. Aiden did his best to ignore his body’s reaction, with a fierce thought to himself that _now is not an appropriate time the explore that particular memory_.

In a way, it was remarkable how both he and Hancock could just sit there, continuing their banter like there was nothing wrong, as if they were not currently being hunted by a group of super mutants.

“And I’ve always heard I pull out the best in people," refuted Aiden. “I guess that makes you the exception."

He reloaded his gun before he put the group of mutants in his crosshair, following the ghoul’s que, steadying his aim by bracing the rifle on the car carcass.

Hancock coughed a laugh. “I won’t call it bullshit, but that really sounds like bullshit."

The super mutants were searching the area closest to them, slowly increasing their search radius, incidentally moving in the direction of Aiden and Hancock.

“You have a hard time believing any claim I make, so I’m not gonna put that against you," he said, follow the mutants movements through the sight of his rifle. “Should we shoot the big guy first, or try to minimise their numbers?”

“Off as many of them as you can. I’m not gonna be able to shoot until they’re closer."

“On it, chief."

Aiden followed one of the smaller mutants with his scope, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. When the hulking mutant stopped moving, pausing its progression towards them to inspect something, Aiden pushed the trigger and fired an entire clip into its torso. It went down with a scream.

“One," Aiden counted.

The surviving mutants, realising their position after the first shots were fired, were now heading straight for them. Aiden targeted the other smaller mutant, despite the master being closer, and fired. With another clip mostly emptied in another one of the super mutants, most rounds having found their way into the chest area, it went down on one knee before one of his bullets went straight through the neck, the mutant keeling over and falling like a log.

“Two."

The master was rushing towards them, and while Aiden reloaded, Hancock started shooting. The first couple of shots made little to no damage, the hail just lodging itself in the thick skin of the mutant. As soon as the mutant got closer, the shotgun rounds finally started to have some effect, just around the same time as Aiden had managed to reload his rifle. He put the last mutant in his crosshairs and started to fire, emptying out the entire clip into the mutant’s chestplate. It barely slowed it down.

“Shit, shit, shit," Aiden mumbled to himself while he quickly tried to reload. He could hear Hancock’s gun go off over and over again, but were too focused on his own task to survey the damage it caused. The next time he looked up, having just finished loading the gun, the mutant had almost reached them. The master jumped up on the hood of the car they had been hiding behind, and let out a roar of as it lifted its Super Sledge to crush them. Even as Aiden rolled out of the way to avoid being hit, he could still feel the vibrations of the heavy impact with the ground travel through the asphalt.

Glimpsing the crater left by the sledge filled Aiden with trepidation; he had yet encountered anyone being hit by a super sledge that had lived to tell the tale. But he had seen various examples of creatures, humanoid and whatnot, that had not.

_And that swing was way too close for comfort._

Aiden tried to scramble up from where he had narrowly avoided becoming another spot on the pavement, gaining his footing with the sole purpose to avoid giving the mutant another chance to try. As soon as he was up on his legs, he started to sprint to the closest cover he could find. Diving behind an old dried out fire hydrant, he quickly turned to again take aim at the master. The super mutant was swinging wildly after Hancock, who jumped and rolled to avoid being hit. Aiming at the biggest part of the target, Aiden pulled the trigger and did not let up until the gun clicked empty.

The super mutant master stopped swinging its sledge, but unfortunately lacked the courtesy to lay down and die. The thing just turned its head in the direction of Aiden and decidedly switched targets, assessing Aiden to be a bigger threat than the agile ghoul, or perhaps just an easier target.

Without having the time to reload, Aiden got up to again find cover, aways from the green abomination that were now chasing him. He started to run to a big piece of concrete debris, once a part of a wall, thinking it would at least give him a couple of seconds respite before having to relocate.

He was still a bit off target when he heard the heavy footsteps of the mutant closing in. The thing was so close he could practically hear its heavy breathing behind him. Aiden resisted the temptation to look back, realising it would only slow him down, and instead tried his best to just sprint faster in order to outrun the damned thing. Suddenly, he heard the mutant take a giant leap, followed by the sound of the sledge being swung, a tell-tale whining as the big head pushed away the air in front of it, before he felt the forceful impact in the side of his torso. The power was enough to swing him sideways into the wall of a ruined building, completely knocking out the air of his lungs. Every rib on the side he was hit must have cracked if not completely broken. Whether it was the shock of having been hit, of bouncing against the wall, or the the wound itself, Aiden found it impossible to recover his breath, or for that matter breathe at all.

The first thought that hit Aiden was that it hurt. Everything hurt. Moving hurt, lack of oxygen hurt, even the dull thudding of his heart hurt. Through the corner of his eyes, he saw the mutant master slowly walk towards him.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“Puny humans, break so easily," it growled menacingly.

Aiden could not move, could not breathe, could only watch as the thing stopped right next to him, standing there like the bringer of death it was. The mutant master raised its sledge above its head to swing it. Aiden’s perception narrowed down to the creature, while everything else around him slowed down like he was in the middle of a jet high. Aiden saw the ugly grin of the monster as it prepared to end him, loathed it for the fact that it would be the last thing he saw, and damned it for succeeding where the rest of the Commonwealth had failed. He did not want to take his eyes off it, though fear was pulling at him, insistently telling him that he would not want to observe his own demise.

_Fuck._

This was not how he had wanted his life to end, though there were probably few who actually did get to choose, not when the time finally came. He would rather have taken a shot to the head than what was happening now. At least that sounded like a quicker, if not painless way to die. He could only hope that his body would shut down fast enough after the mutant’s swing for him to pass on quickly, as comfortless as that sounded.

Aiden stared the mutant master in the eye in a last act of defiance, however hopeless it was, ignoring the shadows that were creeping in on his vision. The thing only grinned maniacally in return, looking down on him as it did on the entirety of humankind. Aiden was still watching it intently, when he saw its head suddenly explode in a cloud of pink mist.

It took him a second to realise what had just happened, as the headless body fell down on its knees, and for a terrifying moment, Aiden thought it would fall down over him, crushing him as its last revenge, before it collapsed the other way.

Aiden closed his eyes in relief.

Now that the risk of being crushed by a super mutant had all but passed, the previous pain came back in vengeance, spreading through him like wildfire, making him desperately wish for the sweet relief of unconsciousness. He was still holding his eyes closed when he felt a rough hand on his neck, fingers pressing right over his pulse point.

“I need you to open your eyes, Aiden," he heard Hancock say, but the sound felt off and distorted. Like his hearing was either interpreting what it heard wrong, or that it was actually failing.

With much reluctance, Aiden did as he was told. But even with his eyes open he could barely see a thing, the darkness in the corner of his eyes was rapidly taking over his entire vision. He tried to draw a breath, but nothing happened, his lungs refused to do what he asked them to. He tried again, opening his mouth with much the same result. Instead of inhaling air, he laid there gaping like a fish out of the water.

_Can’t… breathe…!_

The panic he felt had no outlet, but the cold feeling of dread set heavy in his stomach. He was actually dying, and he could do nothing about it. He felt cheated out of life, having survived the mutant master, only to die due to the injuries it had previously caused.

His eyesight was almost nonexistent, he could barely see any light at all, progressively getting worse as the lack of oxygen was causing his body to shut down.

He was clutching any part of Hancock he could reach, terrified of what was happening to him. As each second passed, he could physically feel his grip becoming weaker as his muscles stopped receiving the oxygenated blood they needed to function.

_Please…!_

He felt the pin prick of a needle puncturing the skin of his neck, spreading warmth through his blood from its epicenter, and suddenly he was able to pull in oxygen in his lungs, gasping like a man drowning.

“That’s it, stay with me. Deep breaths, not all at once." Hancock was combing the hair out of his face.

Aiden tried to do what he was told, but the sweet taste of oxygen made it impossible not to want to gasp in everything.

“Calm down, you’re okay," Hancock said in a calm and intimate voice. “Slow down, just slow down. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out."

Doing his best to follow the breathing pattern Hancock had set out for him, the blackness finally receded.

“You’re doing great. Slow, deep breaths."

Aiden was finally able to see his surroundings in something other than shadows, realising that Hancock was sitting on the ground, with Aiden’s head in his lap, holding his hand in a tight grip. He looked up and was met with a relieved smile.

“Hi there, sunshine."

Aiden could only blink, still working on getting his breathing under control. He carefully squeeze the hand that was holding his, receiving a careful press in return. He tried to move, but a stab of pain from his side quickly erased that idea.

“H-hurts," he pushed out between gritted teeth.

“I know, I know," Hancock said reassuringly, carefully stroking Aiden’s hair, probably in an effort to make him relax.

“I was dying," Aiden croaked, reliving the feeling of being both helpless and scared, counting the heartbeats until it would end.

Hancock did not comment, but he tightening his grip on Aiden’s hand.

Hancock moved so he could sit comfortably with his back to the wall, before helping Aiden off the ground to lean against him. Aiden hid his face in Hancock’s neck as he felt Hancock’s arms envelop him.

If Hancock noticed Aiden’s quiet sobbing and silent shedding of tears, breaking into a thousand pieces while Hancock stroked his back in comfort, he did not say anything. But he held Aiden securely in his arms until long after the sun had set.


	18. Chapter 18

It was dark (well, as dark as the irradiated Commonwealth sky could become) when they finally made it back to Goodneighbor. Hancock supported a severely crippled Aiden who still had problems moving, even after the initial stimpack had been administered, and after having received a shot of Med-X. As much as Aiden wanted them to, his legs refused to support his weight, and the pain in the side made breathing an arduous task.

Fahrenheit had either been worried, or there was some other important reason she was standing outside the Old State House. Because as soon as they stepped inside the gate, Fahrenheit rushed to them, assisting Hancock in carrying Aiden.

“Careful," Hancock said as they made their way inside the State House, up the stairs to Aiden’s bedroom. With the combined effort of both Hancock and Fahrenheit, they managed to put Aiden down in bed without jostling him too much.

Aiden was still conscious, but he felt out of it, not really paying attention to what was happening around him and preferred to keep his eyes closed in the hopes of eventually blacking out from the pain.

As soon as he let go of Aiden, Hancock started to remove Aiden’s equipment, unlacing and unclasping pieces of leather armor, starting with Aiden’s legs.

“What happened?" Fahrenheit asked, helping Hancock by removing the armor on the opposite leg he was working on.

“Mutants," he answered, before moving on to remove the bracers. “Fucking super mutants. They’re either turning braver, or more stupid, if they think they can just step right over us and move in next door," Hancock uttered between gritted teeth. In his blind anger, he accidently manhandled Aiden’s arm in an effort to pull off the brace, which also happened to be the very same arm that was attached to the side where Aiden had broken most ribs a couple of hours earlier.

The whine Aiden emitted barely sounded human.

Hancock stopped what he was doing, and apologised before trying to remove the brace in a much milder manner.

“Was he shot?" Fahrenheit wondered, trying to assess Aiden’s current condition.

“Pummeled, caught a sledge in the side," Hancock answered. “I hit him with a stim, but I dunno how much it helped seeing he’s still out of it."

Fahrenheit hummed in acknowledgement as she put down the leather greave she had just pulled off of Aiden.

“Removing the chest piece is going to be a nightmare," she commented. “But until we do, it will be difficult to judge the extent of the damage."

As Hancock finished removing the last bracer, he crouched down next to Aiden’s head.

“Hey, Aiden?”

Aiden responded with a low grunt, but did not open his eyes.

“We really don’t want to hurt you, but that chest piece needs to come off. Think you can sit up for a minute?”

Aiden frowned before he slowly opened his eyes.

“That’s it. Come on," Hancock encouraged Aiden, putting a knee on the bed to help brace himself to lift Aiden, Fahrenheit aiding him from the opposite side, helping Aiden up in a sitting position.

Hancock and Fahrenheit carefully wrestled Aiden out of the leather chest piece, with only minimal complaints from the wounded ex-raider, before they gingerly placed him back down in bed.

Aiden closed his eyes again, listening to the conversation between the mayor and his bodyguard with a sort of detached interest, like the topic of their discussion did not concern him.

“Right. That should make things easier," Hancock commented, followed by the sound of fabric being ripped with a sharp tool, and the feeling of his skin being laid bare.

As soon as Hancock had managed to remove his shirt, he went very quiet. The first words he heard were from Fahrenheit.

“I’ll get Doctor Amari," she said, and promptly left the room.

Hancock was silent for some time before he sighed. “Hey, Aiden?”

Aiden grunted.

“I’m gonna need you to keep your eyes open for a while. Think you can do that?”

"... Sleep," Aiden responded with a garbled mumble, without opening his eyes.

“Yeah, no. I’m not gonna let you sleep. If you really don’t want to open your eyes, how about you tell me something about yourself?”

Voicing his obvious displeasure with a groan, Aiden opened his eyes again.

“There we go. How you feel?”

Aiden wanted to snort, but the effort to do so greatly surpassed the urge to express how utterly ridiculous that question was.

“Like I was hit by a super mutant with a sledge," he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment.

Hancock laughed quietly. “Well that’s one analogy for it."

Aiden opened his eyes again when he felt a coarse hand on his cheek.

“Stay with me," Hancock said, sitting beside him on the bed, looking worriedly at Aiden. His eyes reflected some of his fear, even though he probably tried to hide most it. At any other time, it might have frightened Aiden. But as his head felt both fuzzy and numb from the painkillers, he could not care less at the moment.

They sat there in silence, Hancock attentively stroking Aiden’s neck and cheek, until they heard two pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs.

“How’s the patient?" a dark haired women asked Hancock as she entered Aiden’s room, Fahrenheit in tow.

Hancock got up from the bed, giving room to the female visitor to work.

“Tired and in pain. He had trouble breathing until I shot him up with a stimpack. And I had to give him Med-X to even be able drag him back here," Hancock answered.

The female nodded and seemed to contemplate the given information. “Drowsiness is a side-effect of opiate analgesics, which might be the cause for his lethargy. But I’d still like to exclude any other factors, such as anemia or hypoxia, before making that assumption," the women stated, stepping closer to Aiden, giving him a quick initial examination.

“Severe bruising," she commented. “You said you used a stimpack initially?”

“Yeah, just after he was hit," Hancock answered.

“That would have healed the worst of his injuries. For the bruising to still be visible, he either did not respond as well as he should, or the damage was severe enough for any superficial damage to be ignored."

The women carefully sat down next to Aiden, moving the white coat flaps out of the way as she settled. She ensured she had his full attention by making eye contact with him before speaking. “What’s your name?”

The doctor had the air of a very caring person, moving carefully, conscious of Aiden’s injuries. She seemed to be the sort of person that had a genuine interest in the health and well-being of her patients, not just in the way of making caps (Doc Weathers being a prime example of the opposite, which Aiden had the unfortunate event of gaining first hand experience of).

“Aiden," he croaked.

“Hi, Aiden. My name is Amari. I’m going to need to take a closer look at your injuries. Is that alright with you?”

Aiden nodded gingerly, avoiding any sudden movements, and preferring not to give verbal assent could he avoid it.

She gave him a soft smile before placing a hand on the wounded side of his chest, carefully moving the fingertips along his ribcage, heedful of his injuries.

“Signs of severe chest trauma, contusion, swelling, but no extensive protrusions or dents. The stimpack should have taken care of any immediate rib fractures," she commented, though certainly not for Aiden’s benefit, as he barely understood half of what she was saying. “Will you take a deep breath for me, Aiden?" she asked, and placed a hand on each side of his ribs.

Aiden did as he was told, even though it hurt to do so.

“Good. Equal expansion on both sides, and no abnormal sounds. No collapsed lung then. You said he had problems breathing?”

“Yeah, he couldn’t breathe before I shot him up with a stimpack," Hancock answered.

Amari surveyed Aiden before answering.

“Sounds more like he was seriously winded, probably due to the initial trauma. The condition might have been worsened by a punctured lung, but it is impossible to tell at this point. The stimpack probably helped the diaphragm to relax, and most likely repaired any damage done to either lung or bone tissue," she commented. “And another?" she directed the question at Aiden.

As requested by the doctor, Aiden took another deep breath, clenching his eyes in effort to ignore the pain.

“Bruised ribs. It can be quite painful, but the injury should not be life threatening. Not any longer, at least. I would not recommend giving him another stimpack, but keep administering Med-X as long as he is in pain," she said as she got up from his bed.

“He’ll be fine then?" Hancock asked.

Walking over to Hancock, she regarded Aiden with a clinical eye. “Unless he starts showing symptoms of acute respiratory distress, like shortness of breath or overly fast breathing, I believe he will recover during the next few weeks," Amari stated as she was standing next to him. “Just make sure he continues to take deep breaths every now and then, and that he doesn’t overexert himself as soon as he is up on his feet."

“No worries," Hancock responded.

“Good, I’ll check in with him sometime during the next few days. Notify me if anything changes."

She turned back to Aiden. “Take care now, Aiden, and I will see you in a couple of days,” Amari said and left the room without waiting for a response, Fahrenheit following her down the stairs.

With the good doctor gone, Aiden felt the last traces of energy leave him. He relaxed and closed his eyes, ignoring the pain in his ribs to the best of his abilities. Before he had the chance to fall asleep, he felt the bed dip again.

“You hurting?" Hancock asked, causing Aiden to look up at the man.

“Yeah," Aiden answered with a sigh and a grimace, before again closing his eyes.

He kept them closed, even as he heard the unmistakable sound of someone flicking a syringe.

A tender hand took hold of Aiden’s wrist, turning the palm of his hand upwards, quickly followed by the small sting of a syringe needle, and the warm feeling of the tranquilizer flowing through his veins.

Aiden moaned at the lightheaded feeling.

“Better?”

Aiden could only nod in response as the opiate took hold of his body, numbness spreading alongside with heat, removing most of the pain in his chest. When the Med-X was in full effect, he finally relaxed, being able to breathe calmly and mostly unlabored. His eyes closed and welcomed the blessed darkness, as his mind was finally being allowed rest, to slip away into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a great deal better at technobabble than with medical jargon, so I had to google most of the terms I used in this chapter. Please feel free to point out any obvious errors.
> 
> And now my recent google search history includes how to treat a broken rib, pathophysiology of pulmonary contusion and other various symptoms and conditions related to chest trauma. Good news is, now I know how to treat bruised ribs. Yay! \o/ (let’s hope that I will never find a use for that particular information)
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	19. Chapter 19

“I’m so booooored," Aiden exclaimed, putting the book he was reading over his face, as was his preferred method to ignore the world.

“Don’t care," came the muttered answer from Hancock, turning a page in the book he was reading.

The ghoul was currently sitting on a chair next to Aiden’s bed, one that he had temporarily confiscated from somewhere else in the house. The door was open to the hallway to make the room seem less cramped, especially now that there were two people inside.

Ever since Aiden had been bedridden, Hancock had taken it upon himself to be Aiden’s caretaker, or as Aiden liked to call it:  _ a total pain in the ass _ . As doctor Amari had informed Hancock of any and all complications that might arise due to his injury (some more likely than others), Hancock had claimed that Aiden needed extensive supervision. Needless to say, it (or rather  _ he _ ) was becoming quite a nuisance.

Hancock spent most of his time reading next to Aiden’s bed. Whereas the act in itself was quite harmless, it put him in a position of constantly being present whether Aiden liked it or not. The other problem being that, besides the occasional toilet break, Aiden was confined to his bed. During the first days after the skirmish, Aiden had been in too much pain to really care. But as breathing got easier, and Aiden recovered more and more of his energy, the concept of not being allowed to leave, became very dull, very fast.

The first time Aiden had brought up the subject of taking a walk outside, Hancock had just plainly told him that he needed his rest. The next time, Aiden had just gotten up from bed and started to walk down the stairs when Hancock had suddenly picked him up, and proceeded to carry him, bridal style, back to bed. From there on out, the whole thing escalated. Aiden had tried to sneak out one of the few times Hancock had not been keeping watch next to his bed. That time he actually made it as far as to the door, opened it, when Hancock had forced the door shut before leading Aiden back to his room. After that, Hancock rarely left him on his own, and gave the guards explicit instructions not to let Aiden out.

It was completely infuriating, especially since Hancock’s behaviour was entirely irrational. Aiden was getting better, not worse. Rather than lie in bed like a sick person, he needed to train in order to recover his lost stamina.

His skin was starting to crawl from all the pent up energy of just lying in bed, making him irritable, antsy and seriously ticked at Hancock’s overbearing presence.

Aiden was also beginning to suspect that Hancock’s insistence that he was to be constantly observed was more due to Hancock wanting to shirk his mayoral duties rather than any consideration to Aiden’s health. A suspicion that was confirmed every time Hancock referred any questions or decisions to Fahrenheit, even those brought forth by Fahrenheit herself.

To alleviate his dreary existence, and exact revenge for making him lie in bed, Aiden took up the pastime of annoying Hancock, which had led to the rather short tempered ghoul currently sitting next to him.

“You should care. If I have nothing to do, I have a tendency to become reckless," Aiden stated dramatically.

It seemed like Hancock was going to ignore his little outburst, until he suddenly spoke. “If you start being reckless, I’ll just tie you to the bed. See how well you manage to entertain yourself without the use of any of your limbs."

_ Don’t picture it, don’t picture it, don’t… fuck. _

Aiden was suddenly torn between placing the book to hide something else, or to continue to keep the book on his head to hide the blush that was currently turning his face red hot.

Hancock must have realized his predicament, as he could hear him snickering. “It’s amazing how innocent you can be with such a devious mind," he said, before turning another page.

“Asshole," Aiden mumbled into the book.

“You know, I’m not sure if you think I’m plain deaf or if you just like to tempt fate. Or maybe you got so hot and bothered by thinking of being tied to that bed of yours that you’re trying to provoke me into fulfilling the promise."

It did not happen very often, but Hancock had this annoying ability of rendering Aiden speechless.

“I… please don’t," he commented after some very colorful pictures had been painted on the inside of his eyelids.

Hancock just snorted. “Anytime," he said, continuing to read in the silence that followed.

Aiden hid under the book until the blush (and other parts of his anatomy) had settled down. Moving the book down from his eyes, he tried to sneak a peek at the mayor.

Hancock was sitting lounged on a rickety wooden chair, one arm draped over the chair’s back, loosely holding a book with the other. An empty can of mentats laid abandoned on the bedside table, having been decimated sometime during the last hour. Disregarding the small frown he was sporting, he looked relaxed, content, like he had nothing better to do with his time than read and annoy the living shit out of Aiden. A small playful smile graced his lips, giving him a roguishly handsome look.

“Like what you see?" Hancock asked without taking his eyes off the written pages.

_ Bullshit! He didn’t even turn his head! _

Aiden just buried his head under the book again and groaned, the sound followed by Hancock’s snickering.

“Knock, knock?" came from the open doorway.

“Well, look who it is," Hancock exclaimed enthusiastically. “How’s the road these days?”

Aiden stole a glance over the book cover and saw Nate standing in the doorway. Nate took one look at Aiden before switching his attention to Hancock.

“Dusty, long and full of perils," he answered. “I hope you didn’t mind when we skipped out on you. We considered looking for you guys when you didn’t return from patrol after four hours, but Fahrenheit just asked us pleasantly to hit the road. Well, more or less."

“No worries. So, anything in particular you’re here for?”

“Well, you weren’t in the office, and Fahrenheit mentioned you have a job for me?”

“I do?" Hancock asked putting down the book.

Nate gave him a questioning look that clearly stated ‘aren’t you the one who’s supposed to know that’? “Well, either you do or you don’t."

“Hmm,” Hancock contemplated before snapping his fingers. “Oh, you think she was talking about the Pickman gallery?”

“You want me to ask her?” Nate inquired.

“Nah. There’s this place up north where we’ve lost contact with our scouts. Think you can find time in your busy schedule to investigate?”

“Sure. Pickman gallery was it? I’ll snoop around a bit after dark and be back before sunrise."

“I appreciate it, Sole."

Nate just waved the gratitude away. “Don’t mention it. So, back to the million dollar question. How did a thirty minute patrol turn into a four hour patrol, and a visit to the infirmary for our resident raider?”

“A couple of green assholes strolling way too close to our friendly little community."

“No kidding? They’ve been getting real bold lately.”

“That they have. So, we told them where to shove it, and they shoved back. Aiden took a sledge to the side before we could annihilate them."

Nate frowned in sympathy before answering. “Well, that sounds painful. You alright there?” asked Nate and turned to Aiden.

“I’m fine,” he answered. “And if you’d happen to communicate that to the mayor, I’d be much obliged," said Aiden, and ended the statement by giving Hancock a pointed look.

Hancock just shot him an unimpressed look in return. “Aiden here has the attention span of a mole rat, and need the thrill of fighting several deathclaws to stop climbing the fucking walls. Don’t pay him any mind," Hancock retorted, turning back to Nate.

“Know what? Screw you," Aiden declared.

Hancock turned to him like a viper. “Rope, Aiden. I got tons of rope. Give me one reason and I’ll go get it."

_ Not. Fucking. Fair. _

Aiden grumbled and hid under the book before the vault dweller would be able to spot his blush.

“Right?" Nate said, sounding slightly confused of what their exchange had been about. “Well, if you decide Aiden is at least capable of walking to The Third Rail, then perhaps we all can share a meal before I head off?”

“Sure. We’ll meet you there, then."

Aiden presumed Nate gave some type of visual confirmation, as the next thing he heard was Nate’s receding footsteps.

“Stop using that against me," Aiden demanded as soon as he heard the front door close, closing the book he had long since abandoned the thought of reading.

“What? The bondage thing?”

“Yeah, that," Aiden replied, feeling hot under the collar just talking about it. “Or would that be too fucking hard for you?”

“No, but I know what would make you hard," said Hancock and leered.

“Why’s that so damn fascinating to you?" Aiden demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?" Hancock asked, raising one eyebrow. When all he could pick up from Aiden was confusion, he sighed. “You like being tied up and I like restraining people,” he confessed. “Only difference is, I don’t blush a million shades of red when I talk about it. Besides, I like you flustered. It’s the only time you can’t bullshit me."

“Meaning?" Aiden challenged.

Hancock sighed. “Meaning, I like it when you’re honest. I like the Aiden that isn’t trying to ‘win’ every single argument. Don’t get me wrong, I like sparring with you. But everytime I see you trying to hide a blush, I know that you aren’t actively plotting my murder."

_ Wait, did he just say that he likes me? _

Aiden just stared incomprehensibly at Hancock, though Hancock seemed satisfied that he had made his point, and did not try to clarify the subject.

“Now, you think you can calm down for the next hour and a half before we meet up with Nate?”

“I- Yeah. Sure."

“Good," Hancock said, picking up his book again. “‘Cause I want to at least try to finish this chapter before we head out."

When they, three hours later, sat at a table in the corner of The Third Rail, Aiden was still repeating their argument in his head.

After having finished a decent meal and started on the first couple of beers, the atmosphere was pleasant. Still too early for most of the more rowdy patrons to have made their entry, but late enough for Magnolia to have entered the stage. The bar could almost be considered as downright cozy.

“Was it the head they hit?" he heard MacCready ask Hancock.

“No, why?”

“He seems a little, idunno, out of it?”

“Naw, I just ignore people who have nothing important to add to a conversation," Aiden commented when he realised who they were talking about.

“Lo and behold, it speaks," MacCready answered in return.

“Yeah, I’ll fucking talk your hat off, merc"

MacCready’s eyes narrowed before Hancock cleared his throat.

Nate, who had so far done nothing else than watch the entire exchange, righted himself before firmly telling MacCready and Aiden to act like adults.

MacCready apologised, appearing to be properly rebuked, Aiden just snorted.

“Suuure thing, pops," Aiden mocked under his breath, taking another drink from his bear.

From out of nowhere, Nate got up from his seat to lean threateningly over the table, staring Aiden right in the eyes with the most livid expression he had ever seen the vault dweller wear. “Don’t, you dare," was growled between grit teeth, before he hastily left both the table and the bar.

Aiden sat there confunded, having no idea what had caused Nate’s rather uncharacteristic outburst, or even what part of his statement that had obviously hit a sour spot. He tried to gain insight from Hancock on what had just happened, but all he received in return was a menacing glare from the ghoul.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking the hint, Aiden got up from the table to follow the vault dweller outside.

He did not spot the conspicuous blue vault suit at first, but eventually found Nate down an alley close to the bar. Nate did not take note of Aiden, who was carefully making his way over to him, too busy with lighting a cigarette with a fancy looking flip lighter. When he eventually did notice the presence of the ex-raider, he gave him a rather nasty glare, taking a deep drag from his cigarette, before exhaling the smoke while turning away from Aiden.

_ So what does one say to a murderous vault dweller who is seriously crossed with you? In the odd scenario where one does not want to get killed at the end of the conversation. _

Not knowing what else to do, he walked to the opposite wall from where Nate was smoking, leaning on it in the hope Nate would eventually share what was bothering him. They both  stood there in an all encompassing awkward silence, waiting for something to happen. As the vault dweller opted for silence and decidedly did not want to start talking, Aiden decided to speak anyway.

“So, umm, look. I’m sorry if I said something inappropriate," said Aiden.

“It’s okay," answered Nate, not even bothering to look in his direction.

_ Big indication that something is really not okay. _

“Right," Aiden answered, thoroughly unconvinced.

Nate finally turned to look at Aiden, giving him a once-over, before returning to his cigarette.

“Look, kid,” he began. “That’s not entirely on you. My son, he was kidnapped. So your little sketch of pretend in there brought up some bad memories. Not much more to it. So you can just go back inside and tell John we made up. I’m not actually angry with you."

“Right. Thing is, he’s not gonna believe me if I walk down there by myself."

Nate scoffed. “He still hasn’t forgiven you for your little transgression last time then?”

Aiden remembered the discussion between him and Hancock vividly, where Hancock refused to believe that he had nothing to do with Bosco and his late team of raiders. And apparently, so did Nate.

“It wasn’t my ‘transgression’ as much as it was him concluding that I was bullshitting him," Aiden answered. He balked at the notion that he in some way was responsible for Hancock’s reaction. “But, whatever”.

“Yes, because you are the epitome of sincerity," Nate commented, the statement completely drenched in sarcasm.

“Well, I resent that accusation," Aiden said, acting affronted while holding a hand to his heart. “Accusations ain’t proof, ‘guard yourself against accusations, even if they are false; for the multitude are ignorant of the truth and look only to reputation’."

“Impressive. Isocrates?”

“Nah, no idea. There was this guy who wouldn’t go five minutes without either quoting a rhetorician, cite a poem or give some  _ important words of wisdom _ . Strange man, but it was hard not to learn something when you shared a watch with him. Well, something that wasn’t names of famous, old, dead people. ‘Cause that’s where I draw the line." 

Nate hummed in assent, giving Aiden a calculating look, before laughing to himself.

“Oh, John, John, John. What have you managed to get yourself into," Nate thought out loud. “Fine," he said, putting out the cigarette. “I’ll walk with you."

“Great. And, umm, before we head down there," Aiden stopped walking, with Nate turning around when he realised Aiden was no longer following him. “You were heading out tonight, right? To Pickman gallery?”

“Yeah. You want to tag along?" he asked, without any intonation that would suggest that he was either against the idea, or thought it ludicrous.

“Yeah, I mean, if it’s fine by you?”

Nate seemed to give it a thought before shrugging his shoulder. “Well sure. I’m actually more concerned if it’s fine with John."

“He’ll be fine," Aiden stated firmly.

From the way Nate was eyeing him, it was rather obvious that Nate was not convinced. “Just clear it with him first. I’d rather not have the anger of  _ that _ ghoul directed at me."

Aiden just waved away his concerns. “Yeah, yeah, sure thing."

“No, really. He introduced himself to me by gutting a guy. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that wrath.”

That gave Aiden pause.

_ He did what?! Really?! _

An entire new feeling of respect for the man, or rather his temper, settled in the pit of his stomach. With a little less enthusiasm, he repeated his earlier claim.

“I’ll clear it with him, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“No," was Hancock’s short but absolute answer when Aiden asked him about it an hour later, back at the State House.

“Oh, come on! I’ll be back in a couple of hours," Aiden reasoned.

Hancock did not relent.

“Fuck, no."

“Why the fuck not?”

Hancock took a step in Aiden’s direction. “Do really I have to explain the fact that you’re injured?”

Aiden just sighed at Hancock’s overprotective instincts. “I got better. Besides, Amari thought that exercise would help the healing process."

“Exercise, sure. But you’re talking about running around Boston, in the dark, when you’ve barely healed enough to walk around. You feel like exercising? Go run around the block and come back here. This is not a negotiation."

Aiden was at his wits end.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You said it yourself; I’m climbing the walls. Give me a chance to let off some steam and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“The answer’s no. End of discussion," Hancock stated and left Aiden’s room. “Get some rest, heal, and we’ll talk about this when you’re feeling better," he threw over his shoulder before leaving Aiden on his own.

Aiden felt like pulling his hair as he sat down on the bed. He stared longingly into the corner where his entire gear had been placed; a customised set of leather armor and a modded combat rifle.

Gazing at the armor, he came to a decision.

“He’s gonna kill me," Aiden whispered to himself.

Nate and MacCready were standing by the gate when Aiden walked out of the State House, doing his best to not let paranoia get the better of him and kept himself from looking over his shoulder.

“Wow," Nate commented when Aiden reached them. “I honestly didn’t think he would let you out. What did you tell him to change his mind?”

“Trade secret," Aiden answered. “We ready?”

MacCready threw Aiden a couple of boxes of ammo. “I thought we might speed things along a bit, so we pre-purchased those from Kleo."

Aiden nodded his thanks before pocketing the ammo. “Let’s hit the road then."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of small spoilers for the Pickman quest, and that quest is sort of gory. Hence, I'm throwing in the warning here. I'm not overly descriptive of it (as I'm not a fan of gory details), but if you really don't like it, skip this chapter.

“I think you forgot to answer my question earlier," Nate directed at Aiden once they were on their way.

Aiden had some issues keeping up with the other two, feeling a bit breathless when walking up any hills or uneven terrain. But he tried his best to keep pace.

“Yeah," he answered, breathing a bit harder than he normally would just walking. “What question would that be?”

“How you and Hancock got acquainted.”

“We ran into each other," Aiden answered. Because he could be vague, and therefore he would.

He both heard and ignored a mumble of ‘no shit’ from MacCready.

Nate hummed, like the statement had unintentionally given up some hidden information about Aiden that he did not wish to part with. “Though I think you can do better than that."

“We had a couple of friends in common," Aiden continued.

Nate was silent for a moment.

“What are you afraid I will find out?” he inquired. 

_ I have no idea. _

“Why are you so interested?” Aiden countered.

“We are travelling together. I’m interested in knowing the people I travel with," Nate said and shrugged.

“No, you’re curious. There’s a difference,” righted Aiden.

Nate scoffed. “There isn’t a difference between being curious and being interested, not when they amount to the same thing.”

Aiden whispered an acerbic acknowledgement, to which Nate turned his head.

“Your paranoia is getting me nervous, Aiden. I know that Hancock trust you, but I won’t unless you give me something to work with.”

Perhaps giving Nate part of the story would not be too harmful. Both of them already had enough dirt on him to be justifiably wary, but Nate still let him tag along.

“Well, you and Hancock sorta dropped by the place where I was hanging, and kinda massacred everyone there," Aiden said casually, the sentence clashing horribly with the tone he used.

Nate stopped in his tracks, but did not raise his weapon. If that was due to his relationship with Hancock or Nate’s own gut feeling, Aiden did not know.

“When was this?” he asked with a strained voice, perhaps a bit heedful of Aiden, gauging to see if he would want to exact revenge or something equally as ridiculous. Or perhaps regretting his decision altogether of letting Aiden have his back.

“Some weeks back,” Aiden answered freely. “To be fair, you actually, sorta saved my life. Hancock was just about to shoot my head off for ruining his boots when you suggested you both leave."

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nate halted the conversation, turning fully to face Aiden with a curious expression. “So you were the kid that threw a bucket of urine on John?”

At Aiden’s nod, Nate started to laugh maniacally.

“Oh god, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that furious. You should have seen him, he was ready to rip everyone in his way to pieces.”

_ Like I need a reminder what Hancock is capable off. _

“So how did you end up in Goodneighbor?” Nate continued.

Aiden just shrugged his shoulders. “Tried to head for Bunker Hill but couldn’t get past the mutants. So I just casually walked into Daisy’s discounts to restock, and was met with a casually murderous Hancock in the store. So he just threw me in a cell and let me stew there."

“Really? That’s all? From the way he spoke about you, I figured he would do something way worse than just throw you in jail. He voiced several really creative plans on our way back, I figured he’d at least do one of them from the way he was talking about it.”

_ Come to think on, why didn’t he do anything worse? _

“Yeah, well,” Aiden began, but did not really know how to finish the sentence. He had questioned Hancock’s motives in the beginning, but had later come to the conclusion that perhaps that was not how they did things around there. From the way the vault dweller spoke about it, he should consider himself lucky to even be breathing. Or thankful that he was not horribly maimed.

_ Disregarding the fact that Hancock will probably still strangle me when I get back. _

“Well, water under the bridge”, Nate stated, relieving Aiden of the obligation of coming up with something to say. “Thank you, Aiden.”

Aiden raised an eyebrow at that. “For what?”

“Good laughter, telling the truth, not wanting to shoot me in the back. It’s your pick”, Nate said as he continued walking, the earlier atmosphere restored.

Beside the occasional comment between MacCready and the vaultie, the rest of the journey continued in relative silence.

“Know anything ‘bout the place?" Nate asked Aiden when they got closer to the northern pier.

“Nah, just that there’s a couple of groups that hang out nearby. Don’t know which suits though," Aiden answered, checking if the gun was loaded for the fifth time since they started traveling.

“Will there be any loyalty issues once we get there?" MacCready asked Aiden in a serious tone.

_‘Loyalty’ issues?_ _The fuck does that even mean?_

“No? Why would there be?" Aiden responded.

“‘Cause they’re your old buddies?”

Aiden just scoffed, thinking that the mercenary was joking. It was not until he met MacCready’s eyes that he realised the question was in fact serious. “Listen, there are very, very,  _ very _ few suits that tolerate each other, fewer still that work together. Most just shoot each other on sight. So, I’d say you’ve got nothin’ to worry ‘bout."

“And if you recognise anyone?” MacCready insisted.

Aiden just rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it," Aiden asserted.

Nate hushed them. Walking up the coast had the benefit of giving them both shelter and cover from the entrance to the gallery, but that did not mean that they could make a lot of racket.

Peeking over a ruined concrete wall revealed a group of four raiders, patrolling outside the blood red door that lead to the gallery. His interest peaked by MacCready’s and his conversation, he could not help but to look closer to see if he recognized any of them.

_ Oh fuck this. _

Aiden not only recognized them, he could even name all of them.

“This is ridiculous," Aiden whispered to himself.

“What is?" MacCready asked, looking down the alley through the scope of his rifle.

“Nothing. How are we planning on doing this?" Aiden asked.

“Shoot them, loot them, move forward," Nate answered.

Aiden frowned. “That’s not a plan," he whispered a bit agitated.

“Nope, but they’re four, we’re three. We down three of them, the last guy will either run or be killed. We don’t need tactics."

“Well Mr. Raider, show us your weapon skill," MacCready taunted, not looking up from his rifle scope.

Ignoring the jab, and using the rubble as support, Aiden aimed his own rifle at the closest raider.

_ Austen Three Fingers _ , Aiden’s mind helpfully provided him,  _ lost seven fingers in a fight with a mirelurk. _

Austed stood just inside the mouth of the alley, smoking a cigarette using the three fingers he had left. He stood perfectly still, not in the slightest aware of his surroundings.

“Taking the closest guy," Aiden whispered, which Nate acknowledged with a pat on his shoulder.

The vault dweller gave the order to ‘fire at will’, aiming his own small firearm at the group.

Aiden took a breath, before he fired half a magazine into the unknowing Austen. He was dead before he even realised he had been shot.

MacCready pulled the trigger on his rifle as soon as Aiden had started to fire, bringing down the raider standing next to the door.  _ Bradford Grin. Got his name due to some neurological dysfunction, causing his face to spasms when he was nervous, making it look like he was maniacally grinning. _

The last two were easily killed by the vaultie, each with a shot to their ( _ Thieving Winthrop and Leonard Whispers’) _ heads, using a silenced 9mm pistol.

_ Of course he uses a fucking silencer. That’s why I didn’t hear anything when they infiltrated the school. He must’ve snuck around shooting everyone without them even noticing. _

Nate was the first one to leave their cover to head for the door to the gallery. MacCready and Aiden followed closely after him.

“I assume you didn’t know these guys, then?" MacCready stated as they walked past the bodies littering the street.

Aiden said nothing, just stepped over the corpse of Leonard,  _ agile and quiet like a ghost, his clothes barely making a whisper as he could sneak by any and all _ , and proceeded to follow the vaultie to the gallery.

The door closed behind them as they entered the building. The smell of blood lay like a cloy fog in the air, somewhat nauseating to Aiden now that he had lived without it for some time.

Nate took the lead of the expedition, carefully moving forward without a sound. The first room they entered contained a macabre, even by Aiden’s standards, statue made from a handful of severed heads.

“That is disgusting," MacCready commented, pulling up a scarf to cover the lower parts of his face, probably in an attempt to lessen the stench.

Aiden walked past him, towards the horrifying pictures that were adorning the walls. Abstract art, conveying fear, pain and torture. “The  _ fuck _ is this place," Aiden whispered, moving from painting to painting, the next one more alarming and terrifying than the last.

He heard Nate pick something up, a holotape he presumed, which he started to play on his pip-boy. Someone who was supposed to be reporting back to their boss, nothing really interesting. Suddenly, in the middle of it, the humming started. Aiden could feel how every individual hair in his neck stood on end. Every word uttered, every syllable pronounced by that deceivingly silky voice, added to the cold dread that settled in his stomach.

“What a total psycho. Talk about nightmare fuel," MacCready commented, seemingly as horrified as Aiden.

Nate looked a bit uneasy, but was not nearly as affected by the surroundings as either Aiden or MacCready.

“We move on," he stated and left the room through the same way they had entered.

The kitchen was a bloodbath, but not nearly as bad as the gallery in itself. They quickly moved on to the staircase, climbing up the first set of stairs to the first floor.

“Spread out," Nate ordered and went to a room at the end of the hallway, while MacCready took the doorway in the opposite direction.

Aiden entered the room in the middle, and was met with the gruesome sight of a raider handcuffed to a bed, where someone had decided to perform a lesson in anatomy, leaving the job half done. The face forever locked in a sharklike mask of fear.

“ _ Razortooth Edmund _ ," Aiden whispered.

He remembered Razortooth. Most people from the first crew he had joined had been complete assholes. Whereas Razortooth, while not really an exception, had at least tried to not be as bad as everyone else. After having pushed him around like they did every newcomer, he had shared his daily rations with Aiden, before teaching him how to protect himself. A lesson Razortooth stated he himself had learned only after having had most of his teeth broken by too many hits to the face.

He could still hear his voice in his head before every sparring lesson.  _ With a pretty face like yours, you need to have a good guard. You don’ wanna end up like me.  _ Razortooth would always end the statement with a smile. Even though most of his teeth were broken, he continued to smile like nothing else.

“Fuck," Aiden cursed, backing away from the bed. He backed away as far as he could, hitting the wall behind him. “Fuck.”

Aiden had never been the queasy type, sort of came with the job, but everyone had their limits.

Turning away from the horrible picture, he felt the bile rise in his throat, which Aiden in a fit of panic tried to swallow down. Closing his eyes and keeping a hand over his mouth, as if that would somehow make him less nauseous. Taking a couple of steadying breaths before opening his eyes again.

Aiden quickly realise it was a bad idea. As soon as he opened his eyes, they locked onto the face of Razortooth, the raider’s broken mouth opened in a scream of pain. Aiden turned around, and while leaning heavily against the wall, he proceeded to empty out the contents of his stomach on the floor.

He felt a supporting hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay, man?" MacCready asked.

“I’m fine," Aiden tried to convince himself. He spat and again turned around to the horrible scene. It took Aiden all about five seconds before he vomited, again.

“Umm, yeah, sure. How ‘bout we get you out of here anyways," MacCready suggested, leading Aiden out of the room, his back to the corpse on the bed. MacCready carefully lowered Aiden to sit down on the landing, before he handed him some water. Aiden rinsed his mouth before he greedily gulped down the rest of its contents.

“Look, I heard you hurt yourself pretty bad the other day," MacCready started. “Did you overexert yourself?”

Aiden closed his eyes. Pictures of the room came unbidden to his mind, making Aiden jerk them open to avoid seeing them. He shook his head, rejecting the claim.

“No, it, I-I’m alright,” Aiden finished lamely.

“Hate to beat it to you, but you really don’t look alright. Unless green is your natural complexion.”

Aiden did not feel like sharing his rather macabre revelation with the mercenary, trying to instead power through it.

“Fuck”, Aiden stated, burying his head in his hands.

MacCready stood next to him, shuffling his feet. “Look, I know we have our differences, but if there’s something I can do,” he trailed off.

Thinking about it, Aiden came to the conclusion that telling MacCready he knew the guy tied to the bed would not change anything. Razortooth would still be dead, Aiden would still have known the guy, and he would still feel sick just thinking about it. He raised his head and glanced up at the mercenary before he spoke.

“Edmund”, Aiden whispered. “His name, was Edmund”. 

He saw MacCready’s eyes widen in understanding, before they traced the way back to the room they had just left.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry. If you need a minute -"

“I’m fine," Aiden stated resolutely.

“See, that’s what you told me last time before you hurled your guts out. There’s no rush, the boss is just going through the place, looting junk like a crazy person. We can rest here ‘til you feel better."

Aiden glanced at MacCready through his peripheral. “Aren’t you happy? You were right, I couldn’t handle it."

MacCready only observed him curiously. “You knew the guys outside, didn’t you?”

Aiden just rested his head in his hands. “Yeah. By both name and association."

“But you still shot them."

“They were assholes."

“Then we’re good. I could barely keep my dinner when I went into the room back there, and I don’t know the name of the person lying there. I cannot imagine what you must be feeling right now."

They were both silent for a while, hearing every odd footstep of Nate’s as he went through the rooms on the third floor.

“Thanks," said Aiden after a while, glancing back at the mercenary that were currently standing watch.

MacCready threw a glance over his shoulder. “What for?”

“For, understanding," Aiden spoke a little hesitantly.

MacCready just waved a hand over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there."

A high note whistle could be heard from the top floor. “Place’s empty, but it looks like there’s a passage down to the cellar. Wanna check it out?”

“Like he’d actually refrain from going down there if we’d say no," MacCready commented silently enough to only be heard by Aiden. Aiden laughed a little in response.

Getting up from the stairs with a little help from MacCready, they both made their way up to the third floor.


	21. Chapter 21

Aiden was not used to sneaking around. Having spent most of his life trying to do the very opposite of hiding, it did not take long before he felt his muscles burn from the exertion of walking around crouched like a stooped old women. How the vault dweller did this for extended periods, seemingly effortless, was beyond him.

Nate was currently taking the lead, silently shooting every Raider that they came across in the underground tunnels, before they were given a chance to notice their presence.

Just as Aiden was about to give up on the sneaking thing altogether, his legs shaking from the effort to keep himself upright, they came to a hall where a very well-dressed man was surrounded by a group of Raiders (thankfully, most of them nameless in the eyes of Aiden). There was one he could name though.

Nate and MacCready were currently watching events unfold as the raider leader, known as Slab, was currently cornering the man in a suit.

“That’s Slab,” Aiden commented, pointing at the man in question. “He’s a well-known asshole around these parts.”

MacCready snorted in response. “Yeah, and what makes him worse than any of the others?”

“He shoots runners. That’s a big no-no in my book.”

“Wow, you have a book?” MacCready asked cynically.

“Yeah, it’s black and has a long list of crossed out names, and you’ll be glad to hear it soon has your name in it.”

“Quiet,” Nate hushed them before taking aim at one of the raiders, indicating that they should do the same.

Slab started shouting at the guy in the middle, before cocking his gun and pulling the trigger. He never stood a chance. Slab was dead on the ground in moments, and long before any of the other raiders realised that they had been ambushed. The first Raider that started to fire in their direction was also the last raider left alive, his life forfeit as MacCready accurately placed a .308 caliber bullet between his eyes.

As the gunpowder smoke lifted, they jumped down from the ledge from which they had shot and killed every Raider in the room, and were met by the well clad gentleman that they had just saved.

“Pickman, is it?” Nate asked.

“It is. Has my reputation preceded me?” said Pickman, in that same silky smooth voice that they had heard earlier from the tape.

The image of Razortooth, chained to a bed, pleading for mercy from this man while being cut in pieces, took hold in Aiden’s mind. Razortooth, who had always smiled at what life had to give him. Razortooth, whose last moments of life must have been filled with such excruciating pain, to mar his face, even in death, with a mask of terror and agony.

Aiden felt his skin crawl, anger washing over him like a tidal wave.

“You,” Aiden growled.

Aiden had never really cared if any of his fellow Raiders had died. If they lost one of their brothers or sisters to the Commonwealth, they drank a beer in their memory and then went on with their lives. Which was not much unlike how they spent their evenings anyways. It did not make any difference. But there is death, and there is torture, maiming and desecration of the dead by the hands of a maniac serial killer. It set Aiden’s blood on fire, his own heartbeat quietly whispering sweet words of ‘revenge’, ‘revenge’, ‘revenge’ in his ears.

Pickman raised an eyebrow in Aiden’s direction, a provocative expression, daring Aiden to make a move.

“You, you fucking psycho,” he shouted, raising his gun to take aim at Pickman who just stood there smiling pleasantly.

“Aiden!” Nate shouted, but Aiden refused to listen.

“Oh,” said Pickman cordially, seemingly unbothered by the infuriated ex-raider that were only moments away from pulling the trigger.

The only thing that stopped Aiden from immediately firing was the urge to make this man suffer as much as Razortooth had.

“I do believe we have a fresh subject here,” commented Pickman, not making a move to either protect himself or run away. “Aiden, was it? What a lovely name.”

The way that Pickman was currently eying him, like he was a piece of meat, ready to be processed, was disturbing to say the least. It raised the hairs on his arms, and his heart started to beat a fraction faster.

For every second that Aiden stared at the murderer, he could feel his anger slowly ebb away. It was as if Pickman himself sucked the anger out of him, leaving place for dread to consume his senses. Fear, both overwhelming and crippling, started to creep up on him, making him doubt himself and his abilities, gripping his limbs, making him feel both slow and uncoordinated.

A thought hit him. This man had subdued every one of those dead Raiders in the gallery. They had not been unarmed, they had not gone willingly with him. But he had managed to slowly murder every, single, one, and it took until now for Aiden to understand how he had done it.

Aiden realised that the tables had turned, he had gone from being the hunter to be the hunted. No matter the fact that Pickman did not look armed, should Pickman choose to attack, Aiden realised that he would not be able to defend himself.

Pickman took a step forward, and in the interest of keeping them distant, Aiden took a stumbling step in the opposite direction.

“Aiden, drop, the gun,” Nate demanded, again ignored by the young man, all too focused on the murderer's movement.

“Come here, boy. I will make you my most wonderful muse.”

Every dead body they had found between entering the gallery and here came to mind as Pickman gestured with his hand for Aiden to walk towards him.

“Go fuck yourself, you disgusting excuse for a human,” Aiden spat at him, even as he felt his hands start to tremble, his aim no longer steady on the target.

Pickman’s resounding laughter bounced off of the brick walls, making it seem as if he was everywhere at once.

“Such a fine addition you will be in my collection,” he said, before he again started to close the distance between him and Aiden.

“Do not worry,” Pickman spoke as he walked towards him. “You will make such a lovely painting. I can tell.”

The absolute terror Aiden felt as the murderer walked towards him, the threats and promises made with that silver tongue, made him freeze up.

_Shoot, just, fucking, shoot!_

Aiden could not move. Like a dream, Aiden saw himself from outside his body, being cut to pieces by the psychotic killer, who was laughing in pleasure while Aiden screamed in pain. The murderer depicting his last moments of life on a white canvas, using his blood as paint. The same killer that was quickly making his way over to him.

Aiden tried to back away, seeing his end reflected in the eyes of Pickman, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by the combat rifle being ripped from his hands.

He was unarmed, seconds away from his doom, and had no way of defending himself.

He tried to remove himself from the hand that held him in place, knowing that Pickman was only a handful of steps away from reaching him.

“Let go!” he screamed in panic, his wide eyes darting to Pickman, while desperately trying to free himself.

“Calm down,” came the confident and grounding voice from the vault-dweller. Had Aiden not been in panic mode, he might have found comfort in it. At the moment, the only thought that passed Aiden’s mind was ‘ _get out, get out, get out_ ’.

“Fuck you! Let me go!” he screeched, trying to fight his way out of the grip, when he felt a determined hand on his face, twisting his head in the direction of the well-dressed psychopath.

Aiden’s breath caught in his throat.

“Beautiful,” Pickman stated almost reverently, as he twisted Aiden’s head this way and that, looking at his profile before turning his had straight again. Aiden was too scared to move. He stared wide-eyed at Pickman, hoping this was some kind of bad dream. “Simply radiant.”

_Please, please, please…!_

He tried to back away, but the hand on his shoulder tightened, forcing him to stay put while Pickman was inspecting him with the devotion of a lover.

“What price would you ask in return for leaving this one with me?” Pickman asked without taking his eyes off of Aiden, the words rolling off of his tongue like honey.

_NOO, no, nonono, oh please, no! Please, oh please, no!_

“None, but neither are we leaving without him,” he heard Nate answer the murderous painter.

Pickman continued to eye him, and used his hand to explore the expanse of his neck, the line of his jaw, the contour of his ear. The touch was unwelcome to say the least, and cold, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The killer let out a regretful sigh, sounding let down by the prospect of having to let Aiden go.

“Oh well, it was worth a try,” Pickman said, following the tendons of Aiden’s neck with his fingertips, before finally letting go. “I do, however, believe a reward is in order. For saving my life.”

Nate finally let go of Aiden, before gesturing for MacCready and him to leave without him. A request Aiden felt all too willing to follow if it meant that he could get out of there faster. MacCready was given Aiden’s rifle by the vault-dweller, before they continued on to the exit.

Well outside, Aiden felt all energy leave him, replaced with an overpowering nausea. He went down on all four before emptying his stomach for the third time since they had entered the gallery.

When Aiden was again in control of his own body, having recovered a little bit of his strength as the fear slowly drained away, he was helped to his feet and led to a bed in a partially collapsed building. MacCready handed him another bottle of water, which Aiden gratefully accepted.

As he was drinking the contents of the bottle, MacCready decided to speak his mind.

“That was some stupid _fucking_ stunt you pulled there.”

Without meeting the eyes of the mercenary, Aiden put the cork back on the bottle to save the last of the water for later. Trying to regain some normalcy, he drew up his shield of biting sarcasm.

“Startin’ to think you couldn’t swear. Boy, was I proven wro --” Aiden snarked before he was interrupted by MacCready.

“You fucking idiot! You could’ve gotten us all killed! Did you ever stop to think?” the furious mercenary shouted.

Aiden realised it was stupid. Now that the adrenaline rush and the paralyzing fear had left him, he realised just how fucking stupid it had been. How close he had been to killing himself for, what? Revenge? Raiders did not avenge each other, not like that.

“No,” Aiden whispered in admission.

He did not think. He felt. He was angered on behalf of a Raider he had not seen once during the last five years. Upset of how the body of that Raider had been treated pre and post mortem. He had been an idiot, and he could admit to it.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. For how he had acted, for how he had endangered not only his own life but of those that had done nothing but support him.

“Well, atleast you’re not trying to defend your actions,” MacCready uttered in response to Aiden’s apology.

The two sat there in silence for quite some time before Nate showed up.

“Aiden,” he said, after having greeted them. “If you ever do something like that again --”

Before Nate had a chance to finish his sentence, Aiden began his apology. “I know, I acted like an idiot, and I’m --”

“I really don’t care for your excuses,” Nate interrupted him. “If you ever go against a direct order from me, I’m throwing you to the dogs. I will not allow you to jeopardize my life, or that of my companion. Do you understand?”

“I never meant to --”

Nate raised his voice. “A simple, fucking, question, Aiden. You answer in either the positive or the negative. Do you understand me?”

Aiden stood there gaping, thoroughly reprimanded, shame coloring his cheeks red.

“Yes,” he answered subdued.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, he asked MacCready to ready himself for leaving.

“I’m still sorry for --”

“I don’t want to hear it. Just follow my orders and we won’t have a problem, Aiden.”

Aiden nodded, before he too got ready to leave. When Nate started to walk in the opposite direction from Goodneighbor, all kinds of alarms went off in Aiden’s head.

“Where we goin’?”

“Diamond city. You got any problems with that?” Nate purposely asked Aiden.

Realising he would be left behind if he were to give the wrong answer, Aiden shook his head in the negative.

“Good. Keep your eyes about you, and don’t dare lift that gun in any other direction than the one I’m pointing in.”

MacCready returned the Combat Rifle back to Aiden, which he slung on his back before answering.

“Yessir,” he mumbled.

Acknowledging Aiden’s answer with a nod, he continued walking, on their way towards their next destination: the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth.


	22. Chapter 22

They arrived sometime during early morning, the sun not yet high enough to provide warmth, but still able to cast light over the old streets of Boston. Entering Diamond City felt all kinds of wrong. As a Raider, stepping anywhere close to the ‘Great Green Jewel’ or any of its guards was as close to suicide you could get, excluding keeping a “pet” Deathclaw or trying to suck out that stuck bullet in the barrel of your own pipe rifle. Before that, Aiden had been too young to visit the town on his own.

Even though he theoretically knew the guards could probably not tell him apart from any other armed guy there, he felt as if he was a Raider masquerading as a hired gun, rather than an ex-raider dressed as himself. It made him jumpy and uncomfortable, something MacCready took notice of and could not avoid poking at.

“Naw, don’t worry,” he said while patting Aiden on his shoulder. “They only shoot active Raiders on sight, not retired ones. You’ll be fine.”

Looking over his shoulder, he noticed two guards that were interested in the trio, but did not seem inclined to bother them.

In pure self preservation, unsure whether or not they had overheard MacCready’s offhand comment, Aiden decided not to make a scene. No matter how satisfying it would be to just whack the obnoxious mercenary in the back of his head.

Nate lead the group to the local inn, and told MacCready and Aiden to save him a seat while he ordered them something to eat.

Sitting down at one of the tables, the atmosphere quickly got awkward.

Aiden had no idea what to talk with the mercenary about. Looking in the direction of the bar revealed Nate in the middle of some type of recount of his travels, the bartender enraptured and spurring the vault dweller on. It did not look like he would be joining their table any time soon.

“Soooo,” MacCready said, breaking the silence, confirming that Aiden was not the only one that thought of the situation as less than comfortable.

Aiden just threw him a glance, interested in what the other man was about to say.

“How’s that gun treating you?”

Aiden raised an eyebrow and then scoffed.

“Gun-head,” Aiden muttered and turned the other way, suddenly way more interested in observing the other patrons of the establishment.

“Hey, at least I’m trying to converse. You’re just sitting there like a paranoid radstag waiting for the guards to start firing.”

“Oh, fuck off. And whose fault is that?” Aiden exclaimed before he was able to reel in his emotions.

_It’s been a long fucking day._

Aiden sighed, trying to appear more relaxed than he actually was, just to disprove MacCready’s claim.

Taking a deep breath, Aiden spoke. “Fine, what ya’ wanna talk ‘bout?”

The mercenary just crossed his arms and stared the other way.

“Idunno,” MacCready said and turned to look to the bar, obviously trying to determine when Nate would be back to relieve him from this stumbling wreck of a conversation.

Not even having a beer to disarm the pressing atmosphere with, Aiden was at a loss on how to get a conversation started with MacCready.

_The fuck did he ask ‘bout? The gun, right._

“It’s a bit heavy, but it handles nicely,” said Aiden when the pressing silence got too much for him.

MacCready actually perked up at that.

“Sure it’s heavy, but you’ll get used to it. At least the recoil shouldn’t be too bad with the muzzle break.”

“Did you do the mods yourself?”

“To yours? No, but I do a bit of modding every now and then. It’s usually cheaper than buying ‘em.”

Aiden hummed politely, but got distracted as he saw Nate get closer to the table, closely followed by a female carrying a tray full of food.

“Sorry for the wait, guys,” Nate apologised, before taking a seat next to MacCready. “Vadim is such an enthusiastic listener.”

A soon as the waitress had put down each of their meals, Nate told them to ‘dig in’ as he himself started to eat.

The food was good, like really good. Aiden could not remember the last time he had eaten something that you could actually taste each individual ingredient in. Aiden even went as far as to ask for seconds when his plate was empty.

“Wow, don’t think I’ve ever seen _anyone_ stuff their face like that,” MacCready commented.

“I didn’t know my eating habits were such a curiosity to you. If you don’t stop staring, you might give me the wrong idea,” Aiden countered, and gratefully accepted another plate of food from the waitress.

MacCready huffed and pretended that Aiden had just suddenly winked out of existence, while Aiden happily dug into his seconds.

“‘Such a curiosity’, Aiden?” Nate asked Aiden, accentuating the words in the same way Aiden had uttered them.

The ex-raider just shrugged his shoulders, too interested in the food to decipher whatever the vault dweller was trying to say.

“It’s been nagging me for some time now, but you definitely don’t talk like any raider I have ever met,” Nate commented, looking at Aiden as if he was a puzzle to be solved.

Aiden just sent him a glare, still not abandoning his food.

“So?” he responded as soon as he swallowed, before stuffing his face again.

“There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m just curious.”

_Be curious in your own time, vaultie._

Aiden kept eating until he had all but emptied the second plate of food as well, starting on the beer Nate had ordered in sometime during the course of their meal.

“Well I’ll be,” was heard from the entrance of the inn.

Aiden turned to see who had apparently recognized someone in their group, and laid eyes on a corroded, rickety old synth standing there as if he had every right to be there.

_Synth!_

Aiden got up from his chair and started to pull out his gun to shoot the thing, and was quickly and roughly pushed down in the chair again.

“Stand, the fuck, down, Aiden,” Nate whispered firmly in his ears, sending the point across that Aiden would not appreciate the consequences of ignoring that order.

Aiden released the gun and raised his hands up in what he hoped would be perceived as a pacifying gesture. Nate released his shoulder after a last squeeze, and sat back down in his own chair.

“Am I interrupting something?” the synth asked as it made its way over to their table.

“No,” answered Nate, indicating for the thing to take a seat. “He’s a bit jumpy after an incident outside of Goodneighbor. Don’t mind him,” he said pleasantly, smiling at the old robot.

_‘Incident’ is a fucking mild way to put it._

“Well alright,” the synth said, and took a seat next to Aiden. “Nick Valentine,” the synth introduced itself, holding out its left hand for Aiden to shake.

_The left? That’s odd._

Aiden took it and shook it once.

“Aiden.”

Nick nodded. “Aiden, you say? Not a common name around these parts,” Valentine commented.

Keeping the synth in his line of sight, or rather his peripheral, Aiden raised his beer to take a drink.

“I wouldn't know,” Aiden said dismissively, not sure what the synth was getting at.

“Come to think on it, I’ve only heard it once, and that was,” Valentine trailed off, looking to be thinking. “A bit over seven years ago, I think.”

_Possibly the worst, annectode, ever._

“Good for you,” Aiden mumbled, realising too late that synths had quite an excellent auditory range.

“Yeah, good for me. It’s an old case. Cold case, unfortunately.”

Aiden tried to observe the synth without the rest of them taking notice. He looked to be close to ancient, clad in the tattered remains of an old trench coat and a gray hat. Like one of those old noir police detectives.

_A detective, then?_

“Come on, Nick. Don’t leave me hanging like this. What was the case about?” Nate encouraged the synth to keep talking.

“Well, a young man found his way to my doorstep, said he was looking for his brother. Apparently, their farm had been raided, burnt to the ground, killing both of their parents and any others living there.”

Aiden saw Valentine’s mouth continue to move as if speaking, but could hear no sound. All he heard was screaming, originating somewhere in the back of his consciousness, from voices that had long since quieted down. The shrill yells only partially muffled by a blazing inferno.

_Fire. Fire, everywhere. Roaring and crackling as it was devouring everything in sight. Wooden beams collapsing as their structural integrity was lost. Timber turning to charcoal, lumber to firewood, fueling the inferno that was heating his face._

_He could hear a shrieking wail, turning his head only to be greeted by the cook, half crushed under a collapsed beam, using her last breaths to cry out her pain._

_He rushed out of the house, was tripped by debris in the doorway but still managed to make it out safely. Looking back to what he had almost fallen over, he was met with the open eyes of one of the farm hands. Staring unseeing into the void, his face a mask of fear, the very last expression he was to wear._

_He kept running, wanting to know the fate of his parents. He found them, sitting next to each other, leaning against the well while facing away from him. He first felt relief, happy that they were alive._

_“Ma’, Pa’!”_

_He walked towards them, only to realise that something was amiss. Moving closer, it was all too suddenly clear that it was not shadows that made their faces seem dark in the evening light, but blood coloring their very skin a dark red._

_He lost his footing, knees collapsing as he screamed his anger at the sky. Howling the unfairness of it all. Why this? Why them? What had they done to deserve this?_

_“Aiden!”_

_He heard his brother’s voice, the man running towards him as he sat there, in grief, in pain. At that very moment, his brother’s voice felt like a beacon in the dark, like warmth after a cold day outside, like a roof during a radstorm. Like home._

_“Aiden, wait here. I’ll go get, Colleen,” he said, and started to sprint._

_“Don’t leave me, Josh!” Aiden shouted in terror. His brother turned around, giving him a tight-lipped smile._

_“Don’t worry, just stay here,” he said, before Aiden saw him running back to the house he had just escaped._

_He stared after him, waiting, worrying, praying. He watched anxiously for his brother to return from the burning villa, before hearing the horrifying sound of wood finally giving up its fight against gravity and fire. The house broke apart, crashing down fast, leaving only rubble behind._

_He started to scream. He screamed and screamed and screamed. He sat on the ground on his knees, beating his fists bloody against the rocks, crying out the utter injustice of the world._

_He alone was left. Alone. All alone._

_Looking up, he could still see the bloodied body of his father holding onto his mother’s hand, as it probably had done in death, before passing on. His father’s trusted rifle was propped up next to him, fully loaded._

_He pushed himself up, picked up the rifle, before swearing to end the bastards that had done this, even if he would die trying._

“Is that something you would know anything about?” Valentine asked, interrupting Aiden’s vivid flashback.

“Umm, what?” he asked, realising he had missed the bigger part of the conversation.

“A farm up north, destroyed by Raiders? Two survivors; brothers. Does that ring a bell?” Valentine asked again.

“From what perspective?”

Valentine actually raised a brow at that, looking a bit confounded.

“I’m not sure if I want to know the other part of that story, so I’ll just stick to the questioning I was going for. Do you have a brother?”

“Dead. Whatever you’re suggesting, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“So, how did you become a Raider?” Nate asked, looking expectantly at Aiden.

Pondering on what to answer the prying vault dweller, Aiden stared down the bottle of his beer is if the answer might lie at the bottom of it.

_He got to the Raider camp some time before dawn. The most of the Raiders had gone to bed, leaving only a single guy up to keep watch. He sat in a bush, carefully aiming the gun just like his pa’ had taught him, putting the guy’s head in the middle of his crosshairs before firing. The Raiders head exploded, making a disgusting and unforgettable sound, before the Raiders body slowly collapsed where it previously had stood._

_None of the others were roused, probably as only a single round had been fired._

_He made his way inside the camp, stealing a knife on his way in, the corpse of the previous owner now decorating the entrance to their lair. The campfire had run out of fuel some time ago, as was evident from the embers that were slowly cooling in the brisk night air. Two of the Raiders were sleeping under a makeshift tent that had been raised using a dead tree as a center post, two other laid next to the remains of the campfire on an old mattress. The last one was sleeping in a ratty bed under the cover of the stars._

_He stepped up to the two that slept next to the fire, using the knife to slit the throat of the first one, just like he would on a rad rabbit, and stabbed the other one in the temple, after they had been awoken by the gurgling sound of the other Raider’s final breaths._

_Looking up just as he had murdered the last of the two Raiders, he tried to gauge whether the sounds had awoken any of the others. To his relief, none of the bandits stirred. Using the back of his hand, he tried to wipe away the blood that had inadvertently sprayed his face during the last kill, most likely making it worse. He looted another knife from one of the dead Raiders, moving to the two that were sleeping comfortably under the tent roof._

_He crouched down between them, a knife in each hand, as he simultaneously pushed the blades into each their necks, followed by groans as they too met their end._

_The last sound unfortunately roused the last Raider, who drowsily tried to make out what was happening. Aiden just got up from his last kill, aiming his father’s rifle at the Raider leader, and emptied the entire clip into his chest. The Raider fell to the ground, as dead as all the others. He even made sure of it as he stepped over to the body, reloaded his gun, and emptied the next clip into the same raider._

_Once done, he just stood there in the middle of a Raider camp, blood on his arms, his face, and surprised he was still breathing. He never planned to survive this. The best he could have wished for was to get some of them, perhaps most, before dying. Preferably together with the last bastard, dying with the knowledge that he had done what he could._

_Surveying his surroundings, the impact of what he had done sunk in. He had just murdered six people in cold blood. Killed them whilst they were sleeping. Six people, dead because of him, by his own hands. He stared at them, the means for which he had done this, seeing them start to tremble as the adrenaline faded from his body, replaced by a deep tiredness._

_There was no way of telling if that was all of them or if some were on their way back. If that was the case, then they would find him standing here, know what he had done, before shooting him. He almost welcomed it._

_He waited. And waited. The early light of dawn cast the camp in hues of silver, as he gazed towards the rising sun. He had lived to see another day, and yet it felt like a hollow victory._

_When the inevitable end never came, he realised that he could not stay there. He had to keep moving._

_Hunkered down, he inspected and looted the dead raiders more thoroughly, emptied out all of their chests, and filled his pockets with as much as he could carry. He dressed himself in their gear in order to easier be able to carry it with him, armed himself with their guns and ate their food before he left._

_He made it about a hundred feet before he was ambushed._

_He aimed his gun towards a female Raider in front, but he stopped himself from pulling the trigger as she raised her hands in a token of surrender._

_“Well, I didn’ think I’d see the day when Rusty Matthew finally get his well deserved fate,” she said, giving him a nasty, half toothless smile. “What’s your name, boy?”_

_“Name’s ‘go-fuck-yourself’,” he sneered at the female._

_The silence that followed his statement was palpable, pressing, until she burst out laughing, followed by chuckles from the other Raiders. He had been certain that they would shoot him for the comment, but apparently he had misjudged them._

_“Well, ‘go-fuck’,” she said, once she had stopped laughing. “How ‘bout ya’ come work fo’ me?” she asked._

_“You’re Raiders,” he observed._

_The female Raider raised an eyebrow at that._

_“Yeah? But there’s Raiders, and there’s Raiders. Ol’ Rusty there thunk it wise to burn his bridges. Stupid an’ careless. We don’t.”_

_“And I just killed a band of Raiders,” he continued, and could for the life of him not understand how she would want him to join her band of misfits._

_“Like I was sayin’, he got it coming. Now, you look like you need a good washin’, get that blood of yer face. Why dont’cha come along with us? I’ll get Desiree Smokes to cook you somethin’ good once we get back,” she said, looking at him expectantly._

_He stared down at the ground, refusing to meet her toothless smile._

_“Come along then,” she said and turned her back to him._

_The rest of the Raiders started to follow her, leaving him behind, both confused and lost._

_He stood there, deliberating on what to do, before he turned his head to look up at the sky. “Please, forgive me, Pa’, Ma’,” he spoke, before he ran to catch up with the group._

“Shit happens,” Aiden answered, not looking up from his beer.

“You’re a Raider, kid?” the synth detective asked him.

“Ex-raider,” MacCready, ever so helpful, added for him.

Valentine hummed. “The brother suggested that the kid might have been kidnapped. Turned out to be a dead lead; I found the Raiders he thought were the culprits, and their bodies were cold. The entire camp had been raided. But no kid.”

“So where’s this client now?” Nate asked Valentine.

“Last I heard of him, he had joined up with a caravan as a guard.”

“Wow, surviving a Raider attack only to fight them on daily basis. Ain’t that a special kind of stupid,” Aiden commented derisively. Valentine threw him a glare showing how unappreciative he was of Aiden’s tone.

“Guess he gave up on finding his brother then,” MacCready said, ignoring Aiden’s mumbled commentary.

Valentine shrugged.

“Hard to keep up hope when you haven’t seen hide nor hair of a person for seven years. At some point, you just have to move on.”

The table went quiet after that, all of its occupants deep in thought.

“When did you say you became a Raider, Aiden?” MacCready asked him.

“I didn’t,” Aiden deadpanned.

“Oh, come on. Think on it. Maybe it’s your brother out th -”

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, merc,” Aiden began, anger simmering just below the surface. The last few hours had all but frayed his patience, and the current topic of conversation did not help. “I saw my brother crushed under the weight of a house. No matter your picture of happy endings and happy coincidences, my brother died a long time ago. End of the fucking story. Oh, boohoo the guy that lost his brother to raiders, it happens. He’s not the first, and he definitely won’t be the last. Commonwealth ain’t a pretty place to live. Parents are killed, their children are murdered, someone’s second cousin got eaten by a mutant, their uncle ripped to shreds by a deathclaw, and so on. People, die. Everyone has their very own sob story, each more horrible than the last one. If you let every tragic tale affect you, then you’re gonna live your life in misery.”

Aiden took a breath before downing the rest of his beer.

“So what’s yours?” Nate asked when Aiden put down the empty bottle.

“My what?” Aiden asked exasperated.

“Your ‘sob story’, as you called it.”

Aiden shrugged, trying to appear unaffected by the conversation. “Like everyone else's - people die, I lived, and then we all moved on with our lives, so on and so forth.”

Nate took his own almost full beer and glided it across the table towards Aiden.

“Thought you’d learned by now, but I love a good story,” he said, grinning and gesturing for Aiden to drink up and start talking.

Aiden took the drink, but he shook his head and rolled his eyes on the sharing part of the vault dwellers deal.

“No,” was his firm and absolute answer.

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Aiden,” Nate commented.

“Funnily enough, that was never my name,” commented Aiden, continuing to drink his new found beer.

“What was your name then?”

_Won’t he ever give up?_

Aware that Nate was a persistent asshole on a good day, Aiden gave in.

“Black Eyed Aiden.”

“That sounds like story.”

_He must be the most stubborn man in the entire fucking Commonwealth._

Aiden gave a dramatic sigh. “Nope.”

“Buzzkill,” Nate stated, like he had somehow been proven right by Aiden’s refusal to share his life’s story.

Eager to get the vault dweller off his back, Aiden turned to the only other topic he could think of.

“We gonna hang around here all morning, or are we heading back to Goodneighbor any time soon?” Aiden said to change the topic of conversation.

Thankfully, Nate let it go and answered Aiden’s query with a nod. “I have a couple of errands to run before we head back. Did Hancock give you a curfew?”

_Oh fuck. I forgot about that._

“Ehh, not, really.”

Nate saw through the lie, as was apparent by him narrowing his eyes, but seemed unsure as to what part of Aiden’s recent statements should be taken with a grain of salt.

“Right,” he commented instead, getting up from his chair. “I’ll be quick about it then. I’ll meet you at the gates, Aiden. It was nice seeing you, Nick.”

“Likewise,” Valentine answered.

“R-J, you’re helping me carry.”

MacCready moaned. “Don’t I always?”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Had a pair of murderous exams to finish and studying have a tendency to take, all the times, and all the things. Just one more exam next week and things should cool down just nicely. Study, they said. It will be fun, they said. End of rant.
> 
> Thank you for your patience! <3

It took them about four hours to finally reach the outer wall of Goodneighbor. Aiden had been silent during the walk, preferring to listening to MacCready and Nate’s heated discussions on various points of interests along the way rather than add to the commentary. After having had no sleep since the night before yesterday, and been more physically active during the last day than bigger part of the last week, Aiden was hazardously near the edge of overexertion. He was out of breath, sweating like a pig, and was beginning to see dark spots in the corner of his retina. Just as Aiden was about to call it quits and rest his ass on the road until further notice, he could see the corner of the Old State House where it was integrated into the protective wall that surrounded the town.

Never had a wall looked as glorious as the Goodneighbor barricade did at that moment. Immensely relieved and utterly exhausted, Aiden followed the others inside.

“Well, this is as close to ‘home, sweet home’ I’ve gotten in a while,” commented MacCready as they entered Goodneighbor, something Aiden could almost agree on. “If you feel like heading out again, you know where to find me,” he said and started to walk in the direction of the Third Rail. Throwing a ‘cya later, boss’ over his shoulder.

It was not until the merc disappeared out of sight that Aiden noticed how the Neighborhood Watch seemed to follow his every movements, much like they had the first time he had stepped through the gate. They were acting agitated and talked in hushed tones amongst themselves.

_That’s both odd and alarming._

While Aiden was pondering what could have caused them to be on edge, the white door to the State House was thrown open with such power that it bounced off of the outside wall, before revealing an infuriated Ghoul mayor.

Aiden knew that look. And he knew it well. Hancock was not just pissed, he was fuming, just a small step down from shaking in anger. Last time Aiden had seen anyone wear that face, two new recruits had ended up with a severe shortage of limbs when the Raider chieftain was done with them.

Hancock was sporting the same sort of crazed look, and that did not bode well for Aiden’s future well-being. As Hancock spotted him, Aiden could physically feel how his heart dropped. The prickling sensation of fear making it feel as if someone had just dosed him with a bucket of cold water.

Had Aiden thought he had the time to run to the exit before Hancock caught up with him, he would have. Though Aiden was convinced that he was not nearly as fast to pull off that feat, nor was he suicidal enough to try his luck. Grasping at straws, he found one defensive shield he thought he could use. After giving Hancock one last glance, he stepped behind Nate. Nate just threw him a curious look before he too took note of Hancock and his current murderous mood.

Striding quickly and with clear intent, Hancock shortened the distance between himself and the vault-dweller. The short walk only seemed to increase his anger.  

“Out of my way,” Hancock pushed out through gritted teeth as soon as he had reached Nate, pronouncing every syllable as a threat.

Nate took another glance at Aiden over his shoulder, before turning back to Hancock.

“I feel as if I missed something. Was there a curfew I should have been aware of?” Nate asked Hancock.

“Curfew?” the angered Ghoul sputtered. “He wasn’t allowed to leave!”

Aiden saw Nate tense up as he realised that he had inadvertently gone against Hancock’s wishes, even though it was by no fault of his own. Nate’s words from before repeated themselves, about Hancock and how he had introduced himself by stabbing someone to death in front of him.

_This won’t end well._

Trying to placate the mayor, Nate raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Hancock, John, take it easy. I’m sorry it ended up this way, but know that I wouldn’t intentionally --”

“Then step, the fuck, aside,” was the mayor’s final words on the topic.

With one last glance over his shoulder at Aiden, Nate sighed and removed himself as a barrier between Hancock and the ex-raider.

Aiden was again faced with Hancock, his gaze burning with barely contained rage.

Aiden opened his mouth to speak. “I --”

“Not, a damn, word,” the mayor growled as started to walk closer to Aiden.

Mixed with all the anxiety that were coursing through his body, a very conflicting feeling of arousal passed through him in response to that dark, raspy voice. As soon as he recognised it, Aiden did everything to quelch that emotion.

_Now’s not the appropriate time for exploring that, not when he’s about to kill me. ‘Cause he is literally going to murder me._

Aiden subconsciously took a step back to distance himself from Hancock’s anger, but was quickly lead to believe that continuing in that direction would have a direct negative correlation with his health.

“Don’t you fucking dare run, you little fucker,” Hancock said, taking a step forward before  pushing Aiden into the barricade. Hard.

The impact was not enough to more than force an impromptu exhale, but his recently bruised ribs were not happy with the treatment. Aiden winced at the discomfort, aware of how much his body screamed at him to take it easy.

Gathering his wits about him, Aiden tried to remove himself off the wall, but before he was able to take another step, Hancock crowded him, fisting his hands in Aiden’s armor and trapping him against the wall.

Aiden found himself, face-to-face with the ghoul, staring at him as if he was seconds away from unleashing the full power of his anger.

_I’m dead. I’m so fucking dead._

He could feel his legs shaking, but was unsure if that was overexertion or fear that was making his body tremor. Swallowing nervously, he was coming to the realisation that Hancock was effectively holding his life in his hands.

“I’d also be scared if I was in as much trouble as you,” Hancock rumbled, pushing Aiden harder up against the wall.

Aiden felt a nail dig into the back of his thigh as Hancock proceeded to force his body to meld against the barricade.

“So, uhmm,” Aiden began but stopped himself as he felt his voice crack. Clearing his throat, Aiden opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted by Hancock.

“You think you can just waltz in here after the stunt you pulled?” Hancock growled menacingly in Aiden’s face. Aiden tried to get some distance by turning his head, but every time he tried, Hancock pressed closer.

“Well, I considered your proposal, weighed it against mine, and came to the conclusion that yours was very much unfounded. So I skipped out for the night, and now I’m back. And as much as I appreciate the welcoming party, I’d rather catch some sleep before we start drinking,” Aiden sassed, trying to disarm the rather unpleasant situation.

Hancock pulled Aiden from where he was pressed to the barricade before violently shoving him into it again. The force of the impact again strained his bruised ribcage, forcing a pained moan from Aiden before he could silence it. Even if Hancock took notice of Aiden’s discomfort, he made no move to release him.

“I’m getting the distinct impression that you’re not taking this seriously. Fine, I’ll show you how serious this is.”

Behind Hancock, two of the Neighborhood Watch were closing in on them.

“Take a deep breath, Aiden. ‘Cause it’s the last one you’ll take on this side of the fence,” he said and released his death grip on Aiden. As Hancock backed away from Aiden, the two watchmen approached Aiden and grabbed him, before dragging him away.

At least this time, the guards had the courtesy to not throw him into the cell he had acquainted himself with during the first part of his stay in Goodneighbor, but let him walk inside on his own accord. Small mercies.

The door locked behind him, followed by the footsteps as the guards retreated.

“You’re fucking overreacting Hancock!” Aiden shouted, but received no response. Not as if he expected one.

Aiden sighed.

He was tired, so tired, and wanted nothing else than to go to bed, sleep, and then perhaps get something to eat. All privileges he were now being denied for a long time forth, if Hancock were to decide. At least the old cell had been furnished since his last visit, which now contained a single chair. Lucky him.

Sleeping on the floor would probably be directly detrimental to his health, and hurt his side like nothing else. That left the chair as the only option for respite. Sighing again at the overdramatic mayor, Aiden shuffled his way to the chair to try to get some semblance of rest.

He tried to sleep, but woke up every time he was about to fall off the chair. After his tenth try, and after narrowly avoiding a head first collision with the floor, he gave up, steeling himself for a long and boring wait. So he sat there, waiting. Waiting. And waiting.

It took hours until he first heard someone walk down the stairs to the cellar. Immensely relieved, Aiden got up from his chair and walked up the cellar door to meet Fahrenheit.

“Can you convince him that he’s an idiot for doing this and let me out of here,” he asked her, hopeful that she would be able to talk Hancock out of this stupid and unnecessary punishment.

She looked at him with a blank expression before answering him. “You ran away, Aiden.”

Aiden frowned. “No, I asked for permission to follow Nate up to Pick -” he began, but as soon as he tried to take the name in his mouth, his throat just closed up, losing his voice entirely.

_The… fuck…?_

Swallowing, he tried again. “The Gallery. I _asked_ , okay. With _words_. And then I went. I didn’t run away. You think I’d be back here if I had?”

Fahrenheit looked thoroughly unconvinced, but perhaps that was not saying much.

“You asked for permission, yes, but you did not receive it. Try to look at this from Hancock’s perspective. Nate would not actively go against his wishes, leaving the other option of you walking out on your own to who knows where.”

The next part she added with a lower voice. “You betrayed us, and you betrayed our trust.”

“That is not what happened!” Aiden shouted.

He had not meant for his escapade to look like he had actually tried to escape. He had just wanted to show Hancock that he could not control Aiden like a dog on a leach.

Fahrenheit continued, disregarding Aiden’s outburst. “Had you entered Goodneighbor on your own, you would have been shot.”

_What? Why?_

“What do you mean?” he asked, hearing his pulse in his own ears, worry making him antsy.

“As I said, we reasoned that you had gone back to your old lifestyle. Meaning, if you reentered, you would be considered a hostile. The only reason you weren’t shot was due to Nate. Whereas the Watch had been ordered to shoot you on sight, Nate is considered an ally. So instead of following orders, they informed us that you had walked through the gate in the company of the vault-dweller.”

_Again, what?_

Aiden had a hard time comprehending that Hancock had ordered the Watch to kill him just because he had taken a nightly stroll in the company of Nate and MacCready. The notion was absurd.

“Let me talk to him,” he asked. If this whole business was due to some misconception on Hancock’s part, Aiden felt compelled to solve it before it escalated.

“He does not want to talk to you,” answered Fahrenheit.

“Oh, so you’re gonna do his talking for him? Get him down here,” Aiden instead demanded, raising his voice slightly.

“You are not in a position to make requests,” Fahrenheit informed him resolutely. “Be patient. I would not recommend angering hi--”

Aiden had had enough.

Taking a deep breath, Aiden started to shout. “Hancock, you fucking piece of shit, come down here and fight your own damn battles!”

She just shook her head.

“I’m not protecting you on this one, Aiden,” she warned him, before walking away.

Ignoring the female for now, he continued to bellow. “You heard me, Hancock! You overbearing fucking melodramatic asshole!”

It took a couple of minutes of Aiden shouting whatever taunt he could come up with, before he heard heavy footsteps walk down the stairs. Hancock made his way to the cell in a slow, controlled pace, and did not even look at him until he was right in front of the door.

Aiden went to meet him on the opposite side of the prison bars.

“Took you long enoug--”

Hancock grabbed onto his neck with the speed of a deathclaw, silencing Aiden by cutting of his airflow before pulling him up against the bar.

“What right do you think you have, coming back here after spitting on whatever kindness I gave you? What makes you think that I’m not going to just kill you here, sparing the Watch the hassle of having to guard you?”

Hancock released Aiden who fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

“I fucking cared for you,” Hancock said, looking down on him with resentment. "And you just threw all of that in my face."

“I didn’t,” Aiden refuted as soon as his throat allowed him to speak. “And I missed you t--”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” growled Hancock. “Don’t you dare bullshit me on that, Aiden!” Hancock shouted in rage.

A bit taken aback by Hancock’s anger, Aiden lowered both his voice and his eyes.

“I’m not. I’m --”

_I’m such an idiot._

Aiden did not look up.

“We’re done, Aiden. I gave you a chance. A chance for you to show me that I could trust you. And you blew it.”

_No. No, I’m not done with this. I’m not ready to give this up!_

“Then give me another chance,” Aiden demanded, looking earnestly at Hancock.

“Why, so you can throw that in my face again? Not fucking likely.”

“Did you talk to Nate?” Aiden asked.

The Ghoul looked at him with heavy mistrust. “I did,” he answered eventually.

When Hancock did not add anything else, Aiden continued.

“And what did he say?”

“That you lied to him.”

As that was technically true, Aiden had no comeback for it. He dropped his head, looking at the ground in despair.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

“Are you kicking me out?” Aiden asked, crestfallen, still facing the ground. He knew that was not the worst outcome in these circumstances, but it was the worst one he could think of.

Hancock did not respond.

Sitting there in uncertainty, Aiden waited for the metaphorical axe to fall. Without answering, Hancock opened the door to the cell and stepped inside. He saw Hancock’s boots stop in front of him.

“Get up,” Hancock ordered in a voice that made the ‘or else’ obvious.

Aiden heard it, and ignored it.

“Why? Don’t like kicking me when I’m down?”

He felt Hancock grab him and lift him up, pushing him against the wall ( _what is with him and these walls?!_ ). Even though Hancock’s strength and manhandling surprised him, he refused to meet the Ghoul’s eyes.

“Look at me,” Hancock again ordered.

It was hard to ignore it, hard to do the opposite of what Hancock demanded, but Aiden tried his best.

“No,” he answered, still refusin to follow Hancock’s order.

“You don’t want me to throw you out for the Commonwealth to chew you up and then spit you out, then you better look me in the eyes.”

Taking a deep breath, Aiden raised his head and met the angry, somber eyes of Hancock, staring accusingly back at him. It hurt. It hurt to know he was the one responsible for bringing him that look. Even though he had been ordered not to, Aiden closed his eyes to hide himself from the shame. Hancock did not comment on it.

“Do you regret it?” Hancock asked after a while.

“Yes,” answered Aiden, without hesitation.

“I don’t believe you,” Hancock plainly stated.

Aiden sighed. “I know.”

Because he knew, logically, that he had done nothing but spout bullshit to Hancock. Because, had he been in Hancock’s boots, he would not have believed himself either. He did not know what else to say to make this better, and while he tried to think of something, the silence stretched on.

_I’m sorry. Just say it. I’m so, very, fucking, sorry._

Aiden could not get out a single word.

He reopened his eyes, hoping for some miracle. How a miracle would help him in this situation he did not know. Though reality showed him that nothing had changed, and Hancock was still looking at him, expecting some type of response.

Aiden evaded his eyes, turning his head down. His sight fixed on the lapels of Hancock’s coat. Slowly he raised his hands the follow the fabric, pulling on it slightly to see if Hancock would follow.

“What are you doin’?” Hancock asked somewhat incredulously, though he did not remove Aiden’s questing hands.

Aiden just spared him a short glance, before again focusing on Hancock’s coat.

Tracing the lapel up to Hancock’s shoulder, placing his hand outside the collar, on the junction of the shoulder and the neck, and letting it rest there.

“Kid?” Hancock asked, wanting to know what Aiden was trying pull, his voice sounding both tired and morose.

Had he actually known what he was doing, Aiden would have been more than happy to share that information. As it where, Aiden just felt he needed something to ground him, and letting his hands take action rather than think of something clever to say felt better than to do nothing.

Aiden gave Hancock another quick glance before he buried his face in the shirt Hancock was wearing. Taking a deep breath, his senses were invaded by the smell of old wool, the Commonwealth air that clung to all fabrics of this place, and a scent he had come to associate as being Hancock’s own, filling his entire being with the sense of feeling _safe_.

“Kid, I’m not in the mood -” Hancock growled, obviously having lost his patience.

“I screwed up,” Aiden interrupted Hancock’s tirade. “I seriously screwed up,” he whispered against the shirt.

It silenced Hancock, but he still felt rigid against him.

“That’s what I do,” he continued. “I screw up. Over, and over again. I really don’t fucking deserve another chance, but I want one. I want one, so badly.”

Aiden was so close to Hancock’s chest. So close that he got this urge to touch the Ghoul’s skin, feel what it felt like against the hardened calluses of his own hands. He used his hand to carefully trace the edge of the shirt, to the v-shaped opening, moving the fingertips from the fabric and to the scarred skin tissue underneath. It only took a second for Hancock to close his hand around the wrist, and push it up against the wall above Aiden’s head, far away from touching him.

“I’m not trading sexual favors here. If you’re serious about this, then I’m giving you another chance to make it right. But this is your last chance, got it? It’s yours, but I’m not gonna let you act like you have to earn it by pleasing me,” said Hancock, making it abundantly clear that any touch from Aiden was unwelcome.

Aiden tried to remove his hand but realised quickly that Hancock had it in a tight hold, and would probably not release it unless he acknowledged the Ghoul’s statement.

An image of how Aiden had spent yesterday morning came up, where Hancock had claimed he liked to restrain people, which was followed by a short-lived pulse of arousal through his body.

_Get your mind out of the gutter, Aiden!_

Clearing his throat to break that particular train of though, Aiden spoke. “What did Nate tell you?”

“That you had failed to inform him that you weren’t to leave Goodneighbor.”

“No, about what happened at the Gallery.”

Hancock went quiet.

“He told me enough,” he answered eventually.

_‘Enough’? What the hell does he consider as enough?_

“I screwed up,” Aiden repeated again.

“You did,” Hancock agreed.

_Just fucking say it. I’m sorry. Why is that so fucking hard!?_

“Kid, I need to get back to work,” Hancock said and released Aiden’s wrist. Aiden already missed the touch. It was the first time Aiden had heard him use work as an excuse to get away from him, rather than the opposite, and it hurt more than he wanted to acknowledge.

“You hate work,” he responded instead, like a petulant child.

“No, I _dislike_ work, but I _hate_ having my trust abused. There’s a difference,” Hancock said and put some distance between himself and Aiden.

_Yeah, I got that fucking part._

Hancock walked out of the cell and closed the door behind him. Aiden, who until then had thought that they actually had solved their differences, suddenly realised that he would have to stay in the dungeon.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You’re _leaving_ me here?”

“Yeah. I’m leaving you here ‘til I feel like lettin’ you out. Got a problem with that?” Hancock challenged.

“You said you would give me another chance!” Aiden sputtered.

“I did, and on which side of the wall are you?” countered Hancock, looking at Aiden like he had no right to complain.

Aiden walked up to the bars to stop Hancock from locking him in there.

“Come on! I’m not gonna skip out, so why --”

Hancock grabbed one bar and leaned threateningly close to Aiden.

“You are going to sit there, in that cell, quietly, until I decide it’s time to let you out. That means that you will not bother me, the Watch, Fahrenheit or anyone else by shouting, screaming or making a fucking racket. And you’ll do it solely on the premise that you want to show how fucking _dedicated_ you are to prove you can be trusted. You got that?”

Aiden was speechless.

“That’s… torture!” he exclaimed once he felt he could talk.

Hancock just scoffed. “Leave it up to you to consider shutting up to be torture.”

“How long?” asked Aiden, the urgency clear of how much he wanted that answer to contain any word that were synonymous with either ‘short’ or ‘very short’.

“You deaf? ‘Til I say so. Now, be a good kid, sit on that chair and shut the fuck up. If you can’t even do that, how am I supposed to trust you to not run off again?”

Aiden bit off a sarcastic remark, realising that it would not shorten the time he apparently had to spend there, nor change Hancock’s opinion in regards to him. Though the effort made Aiden want to hit his head on the wall.

“Good. I’ll see ya’ in a bit,” Hancock said and left.

“Fuck you, Hancock,” Aiden mumbled vindictively.

“Not making your case any stronger,” Hancock answered walking up the stairs.

Aiden growled in frustration.

_The fucking asshole!_


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, no more exams until late October! *victory dance*
> 
> Thank you for your patience! <3

Five hours. Five, long, uneventful hours Aiden spent biting his fist for all the obscenities he wanted to shout at Hancock. Frustration was warring with anger, and Aiden was too tired to deal with either.

Pacing back and forth in the small cell did nothing to alleviate the boredom, nor did it make him any less frustrated about the situation.

_I get it he’s pissed. Got that message loud and clear around the time I stepped inside the gate. So why, the fuck, can’t he just get his head out of his ass and open the fucking door!_

Aiden threw himself down on the chair and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands.

_So, fucking, tired._

When Hancock went down five hours after he had closed the door, he found Aiden sitting on the chair, like he had been told, doing his best not to give voice to his apparent irritation, nor to glare overly much as if he was contemplating the mayor’s murder.

Aiden was finally let out of detention and lead up to his room by Hancock.

“You’ll be fine by yourself?” asked Hancock once they had made it past the doorway.

Giving out a surprised noise of indignity, Aiden turned away from Hancock. “Funny how you forgot to ask that question before you _locked me in a cell_.”

Non surprisingly, Hancock ignored the remark.

“Good. Get some sleep, and then we’ll talk tomorrow about boundaries,” Hancock said and left the room.

_Fucking asshole._

Left alone, Aiden sat down on the bed and began the process of removing the armor he had been wearing ever since he left Goodneighbor sometime last night. Even as comfortable the customised armor was in comparison with the haphazardly thrown together pieces of metal and junk that passed for his old armor, it was still rather unpleasant to wear for 24 hours straight. After having removed both of the greaves and bracers, Aiden realised he had a bit of a problem. Although it would probably not be impossible for him to get the chest piece off on his own, it would involve quite a bit of ‘arms above the head’ action, which had a tendency to put a real strain on the barely healed muscles of his side.

While Hancock would possibly help him if asked, that would mean Aiden actually had to _ask_ him for help. A less than tempting thought when he wanted nothing else than to stew in anger after being bereft of his newly won freedom for the last five hours.

Groaning, Aiden laid back on the bed and contemplated whether it was worth the discomfort sleeping in the armor, just to evade another awkward conversation with Hancock. It was a close thing.

Swallowing his pride, deciding that he should probably not weigh his well being above his pride, Aiden stepped out of his room in order to locate Hancock.

He found Hancock in the office, lying stretched out over the couch with a lit cigarette, joking and laughing merrily with the vault-dweller. Nate was sitting on the opposite couch smiling happily at something Hancock was talking about.

Nate was the first one to take notice of him.

“Ah, if it isn’t Buzzkill himself. Out of the doghouse already?”

At Nate’s comment, Hancock turned his attention towards the doorway. The effect was instantaneous; as soon as the mayor spotted Aiden, his face immediately lost any jovial expression, quickly replaced with a deep and displeased frown. It was rather unsettling how fast the mayor’s mood could turn from one end of the spectra to another. That this particular change was due to Aiden’s own actions last night, made his insides clench in an unfamiliar feeling of regret.

_Fuck him, he’s the one who locked me in!_

No matter how much he felt that Hancock was the one who had wronged him, it was hard to reach for that earlier prevalent anger in his presence.

In the face of the apparent disdain the Ghoul was currently showing him, Aiden had a hard time remembering why he had decided that this was a better option than sleeping with the armor on. Swallowing his unease and realising that leaving now would only aggravate the situation, beside raising some undoubtedly uncomfortable questions, Aiden took a step forward before trying to voice his request.

“So, I-I, eh, need, or I could, maybe --” said Aiden, his voice wavering in reflection to his uncertainty.

“Spit it out,” Hancock demanded.

“I can’t get out of the armor,” he rushed out in an effort to get away from this awkward atmosphere.

To Hancock’s defence, he did not sigh. Though he did not look all too happy at the prospect of undressing Aiden. Had this been a couple of days ago, Aiden had no doubt that Hancock would probably have fed him at least one lewd comment.

Hancock put out his cigarette and got up from the couch, stopping right in front of Aiden. He quickly and efficiently loosened any clasps or straps holding the armor in place, before carefully pulling it off over Aiden’s head.

“There,” he said as he finished, holding out the armor to Aiden. Aiden took it hesitantly, before Hancock turned around and all but threw himself down on the couch, lighting another cigarette.

“Go get some sleep, Aiden,” he said, dismissing Aiden without throwing another glance in his direction.

Feeling dejected by the cold shoulder, Aiden turned to leave.

“Oh, come on, John. Give the kid a break. Aiden, leave that thing by the door and take a seat.”

Aiden looked to Hancock, who continued to ignore him.

“That’s alright, I don’t think --” said Aiden, and tried to get out of the awkward situation.

“Just ignore John. Take a seat,” Nate said, gesturing for him to sit down.

Trying to think of some excuse to talk himself out of having to spend more time with the disgruntled Ghoul, Aiden came up with a blank.

“No, that’s- Hancock’s right, I need to get some sleep. I’ll see you around,” he said as he turned around and walked out.

He could not escape the room fast enough. Behind him he could hear Nate admonish Hancock as he left the room, but could not make out what was being said or what Hancock’s answer was, before he was out of earshot.

Back in the room Aiden had dubbed as his, he unceremoniously dumped the leather chest piece on top of the others in the corner of the room before he sat down on the bed.

He was tired, but he did not feel settled enough to sleep. His head ached, his chest ached in a very non-metaphorical sense, and his legs were announcing that he had used them far beyond their normal capacity and that he definitely would be feeling that in the morning.

Getting up from his sulking position on the bed, he grabbed a set of clothes before heading off to the washing room to clean off a day's worth of travel dirt, blood or whatever grime that had attached itself to him from the gallery.

_And wash off the memories of having a fucking stranger caress my face._

The thought made the fine hairs of his neck raise before he quickly banished any memories of that encounter from his consciousness, hopefully never to be visited again.

Aiden took his time cleaning himself, despite the less than lukewarm water that was offered. No matter the fact that he had cleaned every inch of his skin thoroughly, he still felt somewhat unclean, as if the rotting atmosphere of the gallery had clung to him. No matter what he did, the putridness of that air did not wash off. He lathered himself up again and washed the suds off before he decided that he could not physically get any cleaner, despite what his mind was telling him.

Walking to his room after getting dressed, he was surprised to find Hancock on his bed, sprawling comfortably while reading a book.

“Umm, can I help you?” Aiden said as he entered the room.

“Yeah. I never did get to hear your version of what happened at Pickman’s,” said Hancock, promptly closing the book he was reading.

Aiden was exhausted, but if he hoped to at least partially repair the relationship he had with Hancock, asking the Ghoul to _get the fuck off the bed_ would probably not help. Instead he sighed and sat down on the _not-as-comfortable_ wooden chair next to the bed.

“What you want to know?” Aiden asked.

“How ‘bout you start with what happened.”

_Like it’s that fucking simple._

“I thought Nate gave you the rundown of things earlier,” said Aiden and tried to gauge what the ghoul was actually trying to rope Aiden into saying.

“He did. Now I want to hear it from you.”

Aiden felt hesitant to say something that would contradict whatever recount the vault dweller had given, and sharing anything that the vault-dweller had not told Hancock seemed like an even worse idea.

Much could be said about the mayor of Goodneighbor, though being one to relent, he was not. Rather, he looked as if he was prepared to wade through a lot of bullshit to get what he wanted.

“It’s not as if we got separated. Whatever the Vaultie said-”

“Not what I asked, so just cut the bullshit, Aiden.”

_I fucking can’t deal with this right now._

It was as if Hancock had pressed Aiden’s rage-button for how quickly he went from drained to furious. The indignation of being imprisoned for something that could count as a simple misunderstanding, of being told to sit down and shut up while Hancock decided when and if he was to be let out, even the whole incident at the gallery, suddenly washed over him, leaving him unbalanced and upset.

“Oh, fuck you, Hancock. You just had to come in here and gimme the ‘I make the rules here’ speech. As if I didn’t get that fact after you locked me in a fucking cell!”

Hancock seemed taken aback by the anger that was directed at him, but still acted as if Aiden was having a simple temper tantrum.

“Yeah? After what you did, you think I was just gonna let it slide?” Hancock asked incredulously.

“You made your fuckin’ point when you threw me into a fucking wall! You didn’t need to keep me in the hold for five hours!” Aiden shouted.

“I wasn’t trying to make a point, but it seems like threatening you is the only way for you to listen to what I’m actually tellin’ ya.”

“You tried conversing? Heard it’s all the rage right now,” Aiden lashed out.

“I did, but the thick-headed little shit I’m talkin’ to has dedicated their life to do the opposite of what I ask. You have any other bright ideas on how I’m supposed to communicate with them?” asked Hancock.

“Fuck. You. See? I fuckin’ manage just fine to communicate what an asshole I think you are. It’s not fucking hard,” Aiden answered with venom.

Hancock just stared at him, and Aiden had the impression that his nostrils would be flaring had he still possessed some.

The mayor took a deep breath before he spoke. “I have a mind to throw you back in that cell to make a point that you really don’t want to try my patience. But I’m not gonna punish the Watch just ‘cause you don’t seem to learn when to shut up.”

“Yeah, ‘cause handin’ _me_ unjust punishment is more of hobby of yours.”

Hancock got up from the bed, and in order not to have the Ghoul tower over him, Aiden got up as well. Hancock was still the taller one of the two, and he used that height difference to his advantage.

“Is that what you think? That I like having you locked up?” Hancock asked and took a step closer to Aiden.

Aiden stood his ground for no other reason but to anger the Ghoul. “I think you take a perverse fuckin’ pleasure in controlling me. You just want to have your very own pet Raider on a leash, and it pissed you off when I denied you the pleasure of dictating my every step!”

Something flashed over Hancock’s face before he schooled his expression.

_Hurt. I hurt him._

Hancock said nothing, and the silence between them was starting to become a common theme.

Aiden wanted Hancock to shout back at him, as the solemn mood was slowly draining away his anger, leaving him feeling drained and rueful.

Aiden opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

“So that’s how you feel, huh,” Hancock commented, his tone revealing nothing of what he might be feeling.

“No,” Aiden answered subdued, already regretting having lost his temper.

“Really? You sounded real convincing a minute ago. ‘Pet raider’? You think I kept you around, fed you, and nursed you back from the brink of death ‘cause I wanna _tame_ you? Is that it?” Hancock asked rancorously.

Aiden knew that he had stepped out of line, and that provoking Hancock was a stupid idea to begin with. So now that Hancock was undoubtedly furious, Aiden had no idea why he wanted him mad in the first place.

“No,” he answered again, trying to backtrack from his earlier statement.

“Then how ‘bout you clarify what you meant, ‘cause I get the feeling I’m not that far off.”

“Look, I’m just tired. I didn’t mean anything -”

“Oh, I have a hard time believing that.”

_Yeah, good job, Aiden._

“Can’t we have this conversation in the morning?”

“You won’t be here in the morning.”

_... Fuck._

It was obvious that Aiden had pushed Hancock towards the edge, though he had somehow hoped that he had not pushed him right over it. Apparently, that hope had been misplaced.

“You don--, you can’t mean that?” Aiden asked, fully aware how serious Hancock was.

Hancock did not deign Aiden with an answer. This was not an empty threat, this was the mayor of Goodneighbor throwing him out.


	25. Chapter 25

“You won’t be here in the morning,” Hancock stated.

Hancock left no room for argument, and there was nothing Aiden could say in his defence. The mayor of Goodneighbor wanted him gone, and from the looks of it, he wanted him gone before sunrise.

Aiden searched Hancock’s face for some emotion, anything that would suggest that Hancock might not be as cold as to throw him out in the middle of the night, but came up with nothing.

The mayor just stood there, staring coldly at the ex-raider, uncaring in his impromptu role as executioner.

“I -” Aiden began, but silenced himself.

Aiden did not want to leave. As much as he complained and whined about the order of things, he was comfortable in Goodneighbor. For someone who was used to constantly having to look over their shoulder, to sleep with one eye open, and to use bloodshed as a currency in order to keep themselves fed, that was saying a lot. Comfortable, in Aiden’s mind, was just one step short of content.

But as the seconds of silence ticked by, permanent exile was looking more and more likely, and there seemed to be little he could do to prevent it. He might have been upset over being imprisoned, but it was admittedly better than the alternative of trying to survive on his own in the Commonwealth. Most likely unarmed (because Hancock would probably not allow Aiden to grab his gear before departure) and alone, he estimated that he might survive until dawn. Past that, it was anyone's game.

_The fuck have I done._

No matter how he wanted to look at it, the current situation seemed rather bleak.

_And what the fuck do I do?_

Shaking his head to clear it from the dark images that were flying through his mind, Aiden tried to halt the progression of where this conversation was inevitably heading. Aiden had aimed blindly when he had fired the first shots at Hancock about the treatment he had gotten. He never intended to hit the Ghoul right in the heart.

“ _What_ ,” Aiden began. “-- do I need to do, to fix this?”

Hancock immediately shot him down. “It’s a little late for fixin’,” he stated resolutely.

“Please,” Aiden pleaded. “You know I didn’t mean it. I’m just tired and --”

“You expect me to believe that?” Hancock barked back, interrupting him.

Aiden groaned in frustration. “Come on! I expect you to care! If you throw me out there in the middle of the night, I won’t survive ‘til morning.”

The silence was palpable. Aiden was staring pleadingly at the mayor, his respiration both deep and loud in the quiet room. The mayor in turn just met his stare with a stony glare of his own.

“And why should I care?” Hancock said with an obviously forced detachment. “I thought it’d be a _relief_ for you, finally getting outta that _leash_?” he added with a distasteful frown, as if the words themselves left a foul taste in his mouth.

Aiden made a small sound of frustration. Fine, he deserved to have his own words thrown back at him. But knowing that they were his own words did not lessen the impact of them. Understanding just how much he had actually hurt Hancock made his chest ache, especially in that place that was in uncomfortable close vicinity to his heart. Aiden was not used to feeling remorse. That uncomfortable feeling of anguish so thick that every word Hancock repeated, felt like him tightening the vice around his rib cage.

Swearing quietly to himself about how stupid it was for Hancock to finally take his words seriously, when they usually just spouted out of him unheard, and _particularly_ at that precise moment, Aiden again tried to convince Hancock to let it go.

“I didn’t mean it! Look, I’m sorry, I’m really fuckin’ sorry, alright?” he said sincerely, trying to convey just how much he regretted to having ever spoken those words.

Hancock just kept staring at him with hard eyes, shaking his head slowly as if Aiden was too thick to understand what Hancock was trying to say. Aiden shivered under that glare, as if the coldness of his gaze transferred the heat from both his body and the room, leaving him feeling bereft of any warmth.

“I don’t want your apologies,” Hancock responded when the silence had dragged on for too long.

Shaking his own head in confusion, Aiden tried to understand what the Ghoul actually wanted of him, what he wanted from Aiden in order to solve this unfortunate misunderstanding. Turning every one of Hancock’s words upside down and inside out, he still came up with nothing.

“Then, what do you want?” he asked, heedful and trying not to further anger the ghoul.

Hancock just huffed in annoyance. “Too late, Aiden. That ship sailed.”

To again be met with the wall of Hancock’s resolve, Aiden felt his frustration mounting.

“Please! Don't do this!” he again pleaded with Hancock.

Hancock just narrowed his eyes. “You're the one that felt trapped. I'm givin’ you a fucking out.”

Raising his voice in anger, Aiden tried to convince the hard-headed mayor that it was all a misunderstanding. “I don't want an out! I want --”

_\- You._

Aiden choked on the last word. Too honest, and much too sincere. Too much like baring his neck, heart and every other soft spot he had, and leaving himself open for Hancock to rip into him.

When Aiden did not continue, Hancock just sighed. His earlier hard and cold demeanor softened to something more akin to disappointment, though still not overly empathetic. “This thing we’re doing,” he said, pointing between himself and Aiden. “It ain’t working.”

Still reeling from his own private admission that he in fact wanted the mayor, Aiden could barely focus on what the Ghoul was saying. Realising that Hancock was expecting him to answer, Aiden tried to push those thoughts back.

It took a couple of seconds for Aiden to remember what the mayor had said, in order for him to give the other an answer. “So, how do we make this work?” he asked.

Hancock narrowed his eyes, lowering his voice to a threatening growl. “Have you listened to a damn word I’ve said?”

“I am listening! So now you’ll tell me all about what I need to do to fix this,” Aiden responded, trying to sound rational rather than odd.

The Ghoul looked stunned, as if he could not decide if Aiden was trying to be obnoxious or was just plain stupid. “Did you hit your head?”

_Stupid it is, then._

“If I say yes, will you let me stay?” Aiden asked with a wry smile.

Apparently, smiling at Hancock when he was one short move from becoming feral, was not an ideal choice of action.

Without a warning, and using less than a handful of steps, Hancock had him crowded against the inner wall of the Old State House. Slamming both hands on the wall next to Aiden’s head in a clear display of strength.

“You’re havin’ a laugh, kid?” he snarled to his face, at such a close distance that they were practically breathing the same air. Had Hancock still been in possession of a nose, it would probably be touching Aiden’s. “You think this is funny? ‘Cause my patience is warin’ real thin in concern to you, kid.”

Aiden frowned in response to being cornered. “Does it look like I’m --” Aiden began but interrupted himself.

From this close up, Aiden could see every line in Hancock’s face. Every mark, scar, ridge and imperfection that made Hancock up to be, well, him. Aiden used his eyes to trace the lines of his face down to the tendons of his neck, from the beginning of his defined jaw and down to the clavicle, where they laid hidden beneath the yellowed and aged shirt he favored, silently wondering how it would feel to trace them with his lips or tongue.

From this proximity, he could discern Hancock’s own scent, as well as that distinct essence of that old and well-worn wool coat. He could smell traces of cigarette smoke, which Aiden had earlier only associated with blood-raged Raiders, but had now come to appreciate in combination with Hancock’s own. The sharp tang of gunpowder from the double-barreled shotgun that Hancock used, added another layer to the Ghoul’s multi-faceted aura, what made up the parts that was the mayor of Goodneighbor.

“-- you even listening?”

It was if he had been underwater and just breached the surface when he heard Hancock talk again.

“What?” he asked groggily, feeling almost drowsy from how deep he had just zoned out. Or that might have been the sleep deprivation that really started to take its toll.

The Ghoul sighed heavily and started to withdraw from where he stood leaned over Aiden.

Before he had the chance to move more than a step away, Aiden threw out his hand and caught Hancock by the collar of his signature red coat, and proceeded to pull the Ghoul back towards him, before tentatively placing his lips over Hancock’s.

Closing his eyes, Aiden kept his mouth carefully pressed to Hancock’s, afraid of being rejected at a moment's notice. He placed one hand on the Ghoul’s neck, slowly moving his lips and pushing gently to try to coax the mayor into participating.

After some tense moments, Hancock finally moved, placing one hand on the small of Aiden’s back before separating his lips from Aiden. Even though he did not reciprocate the kiss, he did not remove himself from the careful embrace.

Moving slowly, Hancock put his mouth next to Aiden’s ear and spoke. “Don’t jerk me around,” he said softly, and so tiredly that it ached in Aiden to hear him so wearied.

Aiden’s reaction was to pull closer, trying to bury his face in Hancock’s neck. “‘S not what I’m doing.”

Just when Aiden started to relax, Hancock pushed him away.

Aiden gave out a disgruntled noise as he was suddenly kept at an arm’s length from Hancock when, truth be told, he had quite enjoyed the closeness they had just shared.

“Stop doing that,” Hancock said, again looking at Aiden with disappointment.

“Stop _what_?” Aiden asked, a bit sullen over being once again rejected.

Hancock clicked his tongue in frustration. “Every time I get angry with you, you try to divert my attention by prostrating yourself before me. Don’t. I don’t appreciate it.”

“My question still stands: _what_ are you talking about?” Aiden asked.

Hancock distanced himself further from Aiden by taking a few steps back.

“Every time you feel threatened that you’re about to be thrown out of Goodneighbor, you immediately try to _charm_ your way into my good grace again. You did it in the dungeon, you’re doing it now. It’s insulting, to me and to you.”

“ _Charm_ my,” Aiden began, before he finally deciphered what Hancock was referring to. “You think I’m doing this just so I can stay?”

“You’re gonna convince me you aren’t?” Hancock countered, thoroughly unconvinced.

Not sure whether he should feel offended that Hancock thought he was trying to buy his subsistence with favors of intimacy, or upset that his affection was misconstrued as a currency, Aiden groaned in grievance.

Too tired to fight both Hancock and gravity in his tired state, Aiden let his knees buckle, and slowly slid down the wall to sit at the floor. Placing a hand over his eyes, he shook his head.

“I get it that I might not always, or ever, send the clearest of signals,” he said and drew his fingers through his shower wet hair. “But is it really so hard to believe that I,” Aiden paused, trying to come up with some words that did not sound totally lame. “Well, that I, maybe, sorta, like you?” he asked quietly, feeling a blush spread over his cheeks over that embarrassing confession. He keep his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, not feeling daring enough to meet Hancock’s gaze.

The room fell into silence. Aiden tried to not fidget, though it was an uphill battle, and it became more and more difficult the longer Hancock chose to stay quiet.

_Please, just say something._

The first sound that came from Hancock was a huff, followed by a short chuckle.

Bristled and hurt of Hancock’s reaction, Aiden turned his head towards him and was about give the Ghoul a piece of his mind, when Hancock interrupted him.

“So that was you first kiss?” he asked, obviously pleased with himself.

Thoroughly bewildered by the emotional rollercoaster that was Hancock, Aiden again averted his gaze and felt his cheeks heat up. “Fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbled and continued to avoid making eye contact with the ghoul.

The rustle of fabric preceded Hancock’s movement as he stepped closer and lowered himself in front of Aiden. The ex-raider still refused to acknowledge the Ghoul’s presence.

“Was it?” Hancock reiterated, leaning towards Aiden.

Aiden refused to answer, though he was astutely aware of just how close the mayor was. When a callused hand carefully traced the contour of his jaw, Aiden could not help the shiver that followed, nor could he keep his eyes away from Hancock’s face that was slowly inching closer.

“Well?” Hancock asked, merely inches from Aiden’s lips. Aiden’s eyes were drawn to Hancock’s mouth, and the compulsion to wet his own lips was too hard to resist.

Hancock continued to close in, and with only an inch between them, Aiden lept, again capturing Hancock’s lips with his own. And this time, the mayor reciprocated enthusiastically.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That took longer than expected... I think I have three versions of this chapter by now, though that's not really the reason for the late update. I'll have more time now during the upcoming months when my thesis will be on the back burner. Apologies for the long wait, and thank you all so very much for still sticking with me, and for reading my small contribution to this lovely community.
> 
> When I started this, my goal was to get at least 30 kudos. Every time I got a new comment or kudos, my heart absolutely soared (and still does!). I had absolutely no idea it would gain this level of response. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you! <3

The first thing Aiden took notice of as he was waking up, was the overall hazy feeling of contentment that suffused his entire being, leading him to the conclusion that the bed was way too comfortable to abandon. Without opening his eyes, Aiden settled further into the mattress. That slight movement promptly led him to his second discovery of the morning; that his entire body felt like a big mess of overworked muscles and bruises. Groaning in discomfort, Aiden’s resolve to never leave this bed was further settled. Trying to remember what had awoken him, Aiden opened one eye sleepily and as such made a third discovery; someone was standing in the doorway.

Aiden thought he asked ‘what’d you want’, but it might possibly have come out along the lines of ‘mfwaaah’ to Hancock’s bodyguard, who was currently observing him (as she was wont to do) from her position by the door.

“Work,” she answered, or at least Aiden thought she answered his question. Furrowing his brow, he could not quite understand what she was referring to.

“Don’ ‘member gettin’ a job,” Aiden commented, and made no move to get up, and actually went so far as to again close his eyes to sleep.

“I don’t think she’s talkin’ ‘bout you, sunshine,” Aiden heard Hancock say somewhere behind him. As his situational awareness slowly recovered, Aiden started to realise that hearing Hancock’s voice from that particular direction indicated that the mayor was situated behind him.

Behind him. On the bed.

It is remarkable how quickly one can go from half asleep to fully awake just by using the right type encouragement. Realising that he was not, as he first thought, alone on the small bed, Aiden quickly turned around to confirm what his ears had already told him. The careless movement strained his muscles, making Aiden yelp both at the twinge of pain that lanced up his body, and for suddenly coming face-to-face with the red clad ghoul.

Hancock gave him a somewhat amused smile before he turned his attention over Aiden’s shoulder, and to Fahrenheit.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he answered, perhaps not willing to press her patience beyond that rather short time scope. His bodyguard acknowledged his request with a nod and left.

“Ummmm,” Aiden trailed off as he heard the door close. “Mind filling me in on why you’re, ummm, here? In, you kno’, _my_ bed?”

Not that Aiden was really that unimaginative. He could very well guess how the mayor had ended up in his bed. Though he thought that he, at the very least, would have some memory of having gone to bed and slept with Hancock. Well, at least he imagined that the experience would have been rather memorable.

Hancock snorted.

“Yeah, you might wanna take note on the way we’re both dressed before you jump to any conclusions.”

Aiden confirmed the statement with a quick once-over, establishing that they indeed were both decent.

“Right,” said Aiden, still questioning how the both of them ended up sleeping next to each other, in whatever state of dress.

“Now,” Hancock began. “If I’d been anyone else, I might’ve taken offence of my partner falling asleep on me. But since I know that it has nothin’ to do with my performance,” he added with cocky smile. “I’m gonna let it slide.”

Aiden felt his cheeks heat and tried to bury his head in the bed linnen.

“‘S not like I could help it,” he murmured through the rough cloth. He was frankly embarrassed for having passed out, in the middle of, what he suspected was, a rather heavy make-out session.

He felt rather than saw Hancock get up from the bed to sit next to him.

A gentle hand combed through his head of hair, causing him to lean towards the Ghoul in a silent gesture of appreciation.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just messin’ with ya’,” said Ghoul answered, before messing up Aiden’s already ridiculous bed head as he got up. Aiden raised his head in indignation, but Hancock continued before he could get a word out. “Catch some more sleep, and come find me when you’re not in danger of passing out,” he commented over his shoulder as he left Aiden to do just that.

Hancock closed the door softly as he left the room. Aiden watched the door for a couple of seconds before he graciously adhered to Hancock’s advice, and snuggled down in the still warm sheets, courtesy of the mayor’s lingering body heat.

The second time he awoke it was to the urgent need to relieve himself.

Crawling and clambering out of bed and shambling outside the Old State House, miraculously without breaking anything, Aiden barely had enough wits around him not to run into any bystanders before finding the closest alleyway to successfully finishing his first morning mission. Though a quick look at the sky determined that not only had the morning passed since his last waking moment, but midday and afternoon as well. From the way the sun was about to set, by his estimates, the time would be around 6 or 7pm.

Aiden sighed a bit in annoyance of having slept in, however pleasant that respite had been. Leave it up to sleep deprivation to reset his internal clock to Standard Raiding Time. Back at camp, he usually got up around sunset to prepare before a raid. Even though most attacks were nothing more than a run-in, run-out and grab-anything-you-can-carry sort of ventures, there were times when they had to at least make up some resemblance of a plan to counter for any eventualities that could arise during the assault. Especially when the target was another group of Raiders.

Shaking off the last vestiges of sleep in the drizzly evening air, Aiden got out from the cold and dragged himself back up the stairs of the Statehouse.

As he arrived at the first floor landing, Aiden could hear voices drifting from across the hall. A glance in the direction of the office verified that the doors were ajar, although not wide-open. While standing there deliberating whether or not to go in, one of the doors were suddenly bashed open, causing Aiden to dive for the closest cover. Not that he needed to hide, but when things go bump in the night in post-war Boston, you either quickly learn to duck, or you die not knowing.

“Buzzkill!” he heard the enthusiastic vault-dweller exclaim.

“Not my name, Vaultie!” Aiden shouted from his hiding-spot behind an old wooden crate, to the apparent amusement of Nate.

“Oh, come on. Buzzkill fits you.”

“I’ll show you a fuckin’ fit.”

“‘that Aiden?” Hancock called out to Nate from his drug-den slash office.

Nate gave Aiden a secretive smile before he gestured for Aiden to move inside. As Aiden got up from his crouched position behind the crates, the Vaultie himself started to walk down the stairs, obviously making a repeat of Aiden’s earlier actions.

Stepping inside the office, Aiden both smelled and saw the cigarette smoke that lay as thick as a fog in the stagnant air of the office. Through the cloud of tobacco, Aiden spotted the mayor in one of the couches, and quickly made his way over.

Hancock took a drag of his grey tortoise and was currently making his own contribution to the local smog as Aiden made himself comfortable next to him.

“Sleep well?” asked Hancock as he emitted smoke through his mouth.

Aiden shrugged. “I guess.”

“Well, ya don’t look like you’re about to keel over. Want anything?” Hancock asked, gesturing to a varied assortment of drugs that were laying haphazardly all over the coffee table.

Spotting a glass of golden liquor next to a packet of mentats, Aiden asked for a refill of whatever he had been drinking.

“Sure,” Hancock answered and made a move to get up from the couch. As he got up, he carefully caught Aiden’s chin and gave him a chaste kiss. Taken off guard by the gesture, Hancock was already up and moving towards the liquor cabinet before Aiden got a chance to return it.

“Wow, you dating kids these days, Hancock?”

Startled by the fact that they were not as alone as Aiden had first thought, Aiden whipped his head in the direction of the voice. On a couch hidden in shadows next to the door, Aiden could discern the silhouette of a male a drifter, his sunglasses reflecting the low key light in the room as he moved. He had this inconspicuous demeanor that made him almost seem as he belonged everywhere and nowhere, and Aiden had the distinct feeling he had seen him somewhere around town. Then again, it might possibly have been someone completely different.

“Fuck off,” Hancock answered half-heartedly as he was retrieving a glass and a bottle from the commode, though apparently not as surprised as Aiden was by the realisation of the drifter's presence. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Hey, and here I thought we were buddies. Like the totally sharing everything, whispering gossip in the dark, kind-of friends. Almost besties, though don’t tell Nate I said that.”

Hancock just snorted, choosing to focus on pouring a two finger helping of whiskey in a glass and topping of his own, rather than commenting on the drifter's monologue.

“Come on. I mean, like how old is he?” the drifter continued.

“I think the mayor told you to ‘fuck off’,” Aiden retaliated. “So why don’t you take his word of advice and shove your commentary down your throat.”

The drifter whistled, seemingly impressed. “Wow. You really don’t mince your words, do you. Consider me thoroughly rebuked,” he said to Aiden, placing his hand in a theatrical manner over his heart, before turning back to Hancock. “Where did you find this guy?”

Not appreciating having the drifter speak over his head, Aiden was about to give him a piece of his mind when the vault-dweller returned.

“John and I ran into him at the old down-town school. Aiden, this is Deacon. Deacon, Aiden.”

“Huh,” the drifter replied. “Aiden, codename ‘Buzzkill’, then.”

“No. Absolutely _fucking_ not. Fuck off.”

Ignoring Aiden’s protests against the rather unflattering nickname, the drifter, or Deacon, continued talking. “Weren’t Raiders held up in that neighbourhood? I think I remember hearing some people complaining about Raider activity in the area.”

“Yeah, sure was,” Nate said as he took a seat on the other side of the table, lighting up a cigarette. Taking a deep drag of the smoke before he elaborated upon the subject. “Settlers complained that they were being harassed by a bunch of Raiders from the school building, so we cleared the area.”

Deacon nodded. “Reducing the local Raider population to a ground total of zero. Nice job.”

“Not entirely,” Nate interjected, though did not forthcome with an explanation when given the chance.

While it was impossible to completely read Deacon’s expression due to the sunglasses (and _who wears sunglasses inside?!_ ), his frown was not difficult to discern the cause for. “Look, I’m not going to question your logic for leaving survivors. Well, except that is exactly what I’m going to do. Why would you leave murderers and bandits to continue their life of murdering and, well, bandeting?”

Nate glanced in Aiden’s direction before again meeting the drifters eyes. Apparently quick on the uptake, that was enough for Deacon to piece together the information.

Deacon turned his attention to Aiden. “No. Way. Hancock. You adopted a Raider? But why? Like, why a Raider and not something fluffier. Like a Mutant Hound. Or wait. Maybe a Yao Guai cub? Naw, that’s too fluffy. Oh, I know! Mirelurk?”

“I’m not a fucking pet!” Aiden blurted out indignantly, to the drifter's apparent amusement.

“Just ignore him,” Hancock commented. “He just likes the sound of his own voice.”

The drifter dramatically put his right hand over his chest, as if he had been seriously affronted by Hancock’s comment. “Well I never. Hancock. Really? After all we’ve been through? See if I ever invite you to my bookclub again.”

Hancock just rolled his eyes before downing the last of his drink.

_Like, what the fuck is this guy?_

Nate cleared his throat, interrupting whatever weird tension that the drifter had managed to build. “You busy tomorrow, John?”

Hancock leaned back and seemed to contemplate or reminisce about his upcoming schedule.

“Nah, don’t think so. What’s up?” Hancock asked.

“I could do with some company when I’m heading up north. You’re up for travelling?”

Hancock shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, sounds fun. Been missing your kind of trouble in my life.”

“And don’t that sound like a health hazard just waiting to happen,” Deacon chimed in. “You sure you don’t want me to tag along? We can braid each other’s hair, tell ghost stories and eat marshmallows by the campfire. Or whatever kids do these days. I’d ask Aiden, but the only thing I think he ever roasted on a fire is bodyparts.”

“Hilarious,” Aiden commented, not amused. “I know it’s a common misconception, but we’re not actually cannibals.”

“Well, I never said you ate it what you cooked,” the drifter countered.

“It was _implied_ ,” Aiden responded.

Before the drifter had time to counteract Aiden’s response, he was interrupted by Hancock. “Any implications to my or Sole’s health will be purely intentional. No worries,” he said.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Deacon began. “But I’ll have you know that I don’t babysit for free. I’m paid by the hour. In cash. Or food. But mostly cash. And you have to be home by midnight, or I’ll double my rate.”

“I’m not a fucking kid!” Aiden exclaimed outraged.

“Hush. Nice boys are quiet when the grown-ups are talking. Go play in your room.”

Aiden was about to pummel the drifter when Hancock grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him down in the couch again.

“What’d I say, huh? If he piss you off, just ignore him,” Hancock said to Aiden, obviously trying to make him calm down. Though the comment had very much the opposite effect.

Aiden almost growled in frustration of being held down when he wanted nothing more than to punch the lights out of the gratified drifter.

Nate sighed, murmuring something about adults on the level of preschoolers, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Clearing his throat, Deacon gave the light of switching topics. “Nah, but seriously, I have a couple of errands to run and won’t be able to hang around to socialise with a supposedly retired bandit. Do you usually just leave him by himself? Won’t he, you know, rob people when he’s left unattended?”

“Don’t talk as if I don’t hear you!” Aiden cried out.

Ignoring Aiden’s emotional outburst, Hancock responded to the drifters statement. “Aiden ‘ll be fine.”

“If by fine you mean ‘bored out my mind’, then yeah,” Aiden commented under his breath.

“Then do something to make yourself less bored,” Hancock answered, leaving no room for arguments.

“Great,” Nate interjected, and with a tone that clearly stated that his banter-quota was filled for this evening. “So, if that’s settled, I’ll see you at dawn then.” Nate got up from the couch and threw _‘night’_ over his shoulder as he left.

Hancock waved in acknowledgement.

“Well, if guest of honor leaves, I guess that mean that the party’s over,” Deacon comments as he himself got up from his seat. “I’ll be heading back to my own cot then. Aiden, it was lovely meeting you. Hancock, I’ll see you around.”

Aiden tracked the departure of the drifter with his eyes, and later his ears as he heard the downstair door open and close. “I want to murder him,” Aiden deadpanned, still staring towards the door where he last saw the drifter.

“That’s not ignoring him,” Hancock commented.

“Fine. I can look the other way while I murder him. See? I can compromise.”

“Not really. And I’ll be honest with you, I don’t feel comfortable with you talking about murdering people.”

Aiden turned to look Hancock in the eyes.

“It’s not like I’d really do it.”

“Good. Then drop it.”

“Is that what you think of me? That I’d go around killing people left and right because I’m pissed?”

Hancock made a face of disgust. “No, and don’t make this about you. I have no idea how you and your old buddies used to talk with each other, but when you’re here, with me, don’t make light of snuffing people out. You dig?”

Feeling thoroughly chastened, Aiden went quiet.

“Yeah, sure. I won’t do that. Again.”

“Good. ‘s all I ask. Now, I’ve got to catch some sleep. I’ll see you when I get back. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.” With that comment, Hancock got up. Before he left, he kissed him on his forehead, whispering a throaty ‘goodnight’ with his lips still touching Aiden’s hairline. With a last peck, Hancock walked out to the hallway where he disappeared in the shadows.

“Yeah…” Aiden answered, though Hancock had by then long since left the room.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing! <3 I can't thank you enough for lending me your time by reading this fanfic, and your positive feedback gives me so much energy I just go on crazy writing sprees. (I might have accidentally wrote the outline for ten chapters). We'll see how they hold up to scrutiny, but really, I couldn't do it without you guys.
> 
> So once again, thank you so much! <3

After having slept until late evening, Aiden did not feel any particularly inclination to go to bed to add more hours to his already saturated sleep account. As Hancock had made it clear he would be sleeping alone, he was even less inclined to climb into his cot and make an attempt at it. Especially since he knew that Hancock would go out braving the Commonwealth with the vault-dweller in the morning, essentially leaving Aiden to his own devices for however long they had planned to be gone. It was not as if he had forgotten that both the vault-dweller and Hancock went out from time to time; he would not be where he was had that not been the case. Though knowing that the mayor could potentially head on out, and him actually leaving, were two very different things in Aiden’s mind. And while these thoughts were spinning around and around on repeat, it was nearly impossible for him to unwind.

He tried to lie down to at least find some semblance of rest, and while reading might on any other occasion have caught his attention, it did not seem to do the trick this evening. As soon as he turned a page in the book, he had completely forgotten what it was about, and ended up going back and forth between pages before finally giving up.

Aiden stared at the ceiling as if it would hold the secrets to relieving his irrational restlessness, but only managed to stare himself blind on old watermarks and peeling paint. Letting out a deep sight, Aiden glanced at his surroundings in the the small room for some means to distract himself, and spotted his armor in a heap on floor with his rifle stacked against the wall next to it. Finding nothing else to entertain himself with, Aiden got up from the bed and began the painstakingly boring process of inspecting every single piece of equipment he currently, in a sense, owned.

A quick look at the leather armor revealed that it was way overdue for a thorough cleaning. Making a run for the washroom, Aiden grabbed a washing cloth and a bucket of water, before making himself comfortable on the floor. He washed each piece in a systematic fashion, and after a while, ended up with five wet (though noticeably cleaner) armor pieces.

_And now what._

Still bored out of his mind, and having nothing else to do, he continued to check the seams of the leather armor for breaks, and inspected the internal plating for any undue wear and tear. Although the leather armor was a piece of real quality work, its stitches had not been made with the purpose to withstand a Super mutant-wielded Super sledge, as was apparent by a handful of breaks in different locations along the flank. Realising that he lacked the proper tools to sow the parts back together, not to mention the knowledge of how to effectively repair the damage, Aiden took the armor under his arm and headed over to Daisy’s.

“Aren’t you up a bit late, Aiden? Doin’ some late night shopping?” Daisy asked as he stepped into the shop.

“Can’t sleep,” he answered honestly and proceeded to place the armor on the counter. “In regards to losing sleep, I think I found the limit of what the armor can withstand. And it’s somewhere between a knife and a sledgehammer.”

Daisy inspected the armor where Aiden indicated there was an abrasion. “Yep, that thread needs to be replaced. Can’t promise to have it done right away, but I could perhaps have a go at it tomorrow. And why’s the leather wet?”

“‘Cause I washed it. And on the other topic, I was sorta hoping you’d just show me how it’s done, and I could maybe try fixing it myself?” Aiden asked sheepishly.

Daisy gave Aiden a puzzled look, possibly evaluating how wise it was to hand the ex-raider free access to several, undoubtedly, very sharp tools. Or that might have been him over-analysing her reaction.

“Well if you wanna give it a try, be my guest,” Daisy answered with some consideration. “If you fix it, it’s one less chore off my table. The tools you’ll need should be on the workbench. Just head on over and I’ll join you in a minute.”

Giving her his thanks, Aiden grabbed the armor and headed further into the store to look at the setup. The workbench contained more tools than Aiden thought was needed and many more than he could even name, much less properly handle. True to her word, Daisy showed Aiden which tools to use and how to use them before returning to man the counter, leaving Aiden to try his best not to injure himself in the process of mending his armor.

While the repairs most likely would have been done significantly faster had Daisy carried out the task herself, he was not entirely dissatisfied with the results. Hitting a snag when realising it was a lot more complicated than he had first imagined, he still managed to replace the thread that was shredded, and without causing himself major harm (the occasionally pricked finger aside). While he was standing there and admiring his work, he felt Daisy approach him.

“Well, you managed to sew the thing back together. Good work. And with all fingers still attached.”

Aiden scoffed, despite that her thoughts were not far off from his own only minutes earlier. “Thanks, it’s a feat. And it might have helped that I sorta need my fingers intact.”

Daisy nodded as she continued to inspect Aiden’s work. “Not bad for a beginner. You’ve ever thought of giving crafting a go?”

Aiden gave Daisy what he thought was an incredulous look. “What? Like a job?”

Daisy nodded. “You got potential for it. While your skill could use some improvement,” she said while pointing at a particularly crooked stitch in a place Aiden really had struggled. “It’s not half bad. You should really consider it.”

No doubt, she definitely gave Aiden something to ponder. He nodded in a distracted fashion, trying to picture himself as someone that did this for a living. It was a far cry from what was previously listed in his resumé on the topic of _work experience_ , not that he intended on adding anything to that particular ledger. But going from using his hands to hurt people to someone who utilised theirs to create stuff. Well, it was a bit farfetched.

“Well, there’s only one more thing needed to be done,” Daisy said, effectively interrupting Aiden’s moment of reflection, while reaching for a small tin in one of the drawers. “Take a dollop of this and coat the armor in it. That way it’ll stay flexible. If you’d left the armor with me, I’d do it before returning it.”

Aiden received the small container. When opening it, his nose was quickly assaulted by a the most foul odour he had ever smelled ( _well, almost_ ). A bit reluctantly, he used his fingers to scoop some of the substance from the jar and proceeded to smear the sticky jelly over the armor.

“What is this stuff?” Aiden asked as he wiped the excess jelly on the inside corners of the jar and polished the rest of using a small washcloth hanging off of the workbench.

“Leather balm. Don’t ask what’s in it, I wouldn't know where to start,” Daisy replied.

Although feeling somewhat tainted at the mere aspects of what the sticky balm could contain (based on the smell alone), Aiden still properly thanked Daisy for her help before heading back to the State House with his newly serviced leather chestpiece.

Back in his room, and still with way too much energy to even consider sleep, Aiden again tried to come up with something to do. While he gently laid the armor piece to rest, he took notice of his rifle leaned up against the wall.

During his raiding days, Aiden had used his spare time to go through his pipe-rifle once every other day. Both to ensure that it was still working, but also to make sure no-one had decided to tamper with it. Raiders were notorious assholes, and while it might be fun to watch someone else shoot Mutfruit juice in their face instead of bullets at their targets, it was less fun to clean up the mess in your own gun. For that reason, he quickly got quite adept at taking his own gun apart and putting it back together without any major mishaps.

While initially optimistic, it took barely a minute for Aiden to realise that he was in way over his head if he thought to service it on his own. While it was somewhat simple to screw a pipe-rifle into pieces and back together again, an actual combat rifle was another story. He realised that he had no idea of how to survey any damage done to the rifle, much less how to disassemble it without breaking it. Though looking at the rifle in consideration, Aiden thought he had an idea of someone who could potentially help him.

As Aiden walked down the stairs of the The Third Rail, he could immediately spot the old Gunner mercenary sitting with his back turned to the room. Taking special care not to be spotted, Aiden bought two beers from Whitechapel, and went to surprise him.

Slamming down a bottle of Gwinnett in front of the ex-gunner, visibly startling him, Aiden went to sit on the opposite side of the table.

“Beer’s on me,” Aiden said to a very wide-eyed MacCready, before bringing the bottleneck of his own beer to his mouth.

“Hell, Aiden. Could you warn a guy first?” the mercenary commented, appearing almost winded from the earlier scare.

Aiden laughed internally, but still tried to give MacCready his best impression of an innocent smile. Though, judging by the look on MacCready’s face, Aiden might have missed the mark when it came to his own verisimilitude.

MacCready looked at Aiden with deep suspicion before turning to the offending bottle and putting it under scrutiny, lifting the glass container towards the closest light source as if to scan its contents.

“Is it poisonous?” was the first question the ex-gunner asked.

Sure, Aiden could have understood why MacCready thought he was either bribing him or buying himself leverage, which was more akin to the truth. Though he had not previously coloured the mercenary as being overly paranoid, nor that the he thought Aiden was capable of causing him harm.

“Come on, really? Why’d I do that?” Aiden asked.

MacCready seemed to reevaluate Aiden as a possible chemist, and after thorough consideration he appeared to come to some type of decision, and finally took a small sip from the bottle. While initially careful, he quickly abandoned any precautions and took a hefty swig from the beer.

Apparently convinced of the authenticity of the beer (sans poisonous additives), MacCready shrugged his shoulders. “At least it doesn’t taste bad. Well, not worse than usual. So why the charitable mood?”

“What? I can’t buy a beer for a friend without ulterior motives?” Aiden asked, while looking at the other patrons currently visiting the bar.

He could practically feel MacCready’s disbelieving stare, raising the small hairs of his neck.

Aiden conceded with a sigh. “Fine. So I was planning on cleaning the rifle, and, well. Let’s just say I don’t feel like taking apart anything that I am not entirely certain that I can put back together. So I thought that, hey, that green-hat-mercenary-guy hanging around The Third Rail? He might now what’s up and down. So, what’dya think? Can you show me how it’s done? I promise, you can be really mean ‘bout my lack of knowledge and I won’t even hit ya’.”

Mumbling something along the lines of _‘what an offer’_ , MacCready frowned as he took another gulp of the beer. “Sure I could. But why?”

Surprised that the mercenary just accepted his offer and did not even hound him on the principles of having a clean rifle, Aiden was taken aback.

“Eh, what, _why_ you should help me?” he asked, already in the back of his mind trying to spin some tale in order to convince the reluctant ex-gunner.

MacCready just looked at him impatiently, clearly believing Aiden to be difficult for no good reason.

“No, like, is it performing bad? You missing shots? What’s your reason for cleaning it?”

Aiden just shrugged. “Well, mostly I used to clean my old rifle every once in awhile. Figured that’s what you do.”

MacCready now looked at Aiden as if he was particularly stupid, which grinded all kinds of gears wrong for the ex-raider. But before he had a chance to communicate exactly how that ticked Aiden off (in a potentially undignified way), MacCready interjected.

“That gun you got is a _combat rifle_. So unless the bullets start flying in every direction but the one you point at, there’s no need to clean it after only firing a few shots. While the ammo you used to fill your crap-rifle with was most probably corrosive, not mentioning the quality of the parts themselves, you shouldn’t start having any problems with that beaut’ any time soon.”

“Well, that’s, good, I guess,” Aiden replied, actually quite impressed by MacCready’s know-how of guns. But letting the mercenary know that could lead to nothing but gloating. And Aiden hated gloating. Unless he was the one doing it.

“So, unless you had another reason for taking it apart...?” MacCready asked, drawing out the last word to a question.

While Aiden might need to learn how to disassemble the rifle at some point, there was no need to dissect something that was already ticking. Since cleaning the gun was off the table on possible things to commit himself to, Aiden realised he had a new (or an old) problem on his hand.

“No, not really,” he answered, sighing deeply while trying to come up with something else to occupy his time. When nothing was forthcoming, Aiden dunked his head to the bar table and closed his eyes. “Fuck, I’m so bored.”

MacCready, barely fazed by Aiden’s rather unprovoked moodswing, decided to provide his two caps to the situation.

“Then go sleep or something.”

Making a disapproving sound, still with his forehead against the worn-out wood of the pre-war table, Aiden countered. “I don’t see you sleeping,” affording the merc a reproachful stare from his peripheral.

MacCready just huffed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but, traveling with the boss has a tendency to flip my sleeping cycle. I’ve already slept.”

Aiden nodded against the table. He could relate to that.

“Still bored. Fuck, I both cleaned and patched my armor. There’s absolutely nothing to do in this town. And now I won’t have Hancock to pester for who know how long. Oh the horror,” Aiden complained.

MacCready just shrugged his shoulders. “Drink booze, shoot bottles, and then drink some more. It’s not that hard to find things to do. You could take the time off and lay low. And don’t look at me like that.”

It was not until MacCready mentioned it that Aiden realised he was staring incredulously at ex-gunner. Sighing yet again, Aiden continued to grumble.

“I’m not used to having this much time on my hands,” he divulged, thinking back on what he used to do when he got some time off way back when, when he was in the old gang.

“You get used to it,” the mercenary said before drinking the last of his beer. “And then you start appreciating it.”

“Oh yeah?” Aiden said derisively. “So what do you do, then?”

MacCready did not even flinch at Aiden’s less than pleasant tone. “Drink, target practice, write letters to my son. Not that I always send them, but it still feels good to put your thoughts to paper sometime, you know?”

Aiden did a double-take at that. “No fuckin’ way. I call bullshit.”

While the previous sarcasm had not affected him, that comment did appear to gain the mercenary’s attention. “Hey! I can write! I might be a mercenary, but --”

“No, not -- the _other_ part. You actually have a kid?” Aiden inquired.

“Yeah, I do,” he answered, his face lighting up with obvious happiness at the opportunity to talk about his kin. “His name’s Duncan, my pride and joy.”

“Shit, man. I think Hancock mentioned it, I just thought he was trying to make a point. We’re like the same age, and you’ve gone and gotten yourself a family already. I feel weird just thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Yeah, well, growing up in the Capital Wasteland you kinda get the feeling that you’re living on borrowed time.”

“Sure, I can relate to that. Though the thought of raising family just never occurred to me,” Aiden trailed off, trying to picture himself in the mercenary’s situation. The only image that came up was of Hancock and him in different domestic situations: sitting on the couch, eating dinner together, waking up next to each other. And while he did not mind the pictures, Aiden had a hard time trying to compare their interactions as that to his predefined image of a family. Somehow, he had abandoned the thought of having a family of his own around the time he had started slitting throats for a living, _not so figuratively speaking._

Coughing to get his mind back on track, Aiden tried to get some more information out of the ex-gunner. “So, where’s the the rest of the MacCready’s?” Aiden asked, trying to get out of his own head and back to the conversation. Though, based on the reaction the mercenary gave him, that might not have been the best question to ask.

“Duncan’s back home and Lucy’s…” MacCready trailed off, giving off the expression of being thoroughly lost. “Well…”

_Ouch, poor guy._

It was obvious that something had happened to the beginning family, and sadly, it was not that uncommon of an occurrence in the post-war Wastelands.

“Sorry for your loss,” Aiden said, sincere in his condolences.

“Thanks,” MacCready acknowledged. “The thing is,” he began but interrupted himself. Whatever had happened, the events had most likely left deep emotional scars, the ones that continued to fester rather than heal. It was obviously difficult for the other to express himself on the topic, which Aiden could not and did not blame him for. Or maybe, Aiden speculated, the reluctance could also be related to the current company. The two of them were not known to be friends, but at least on Aiden’s side, he would not mind if the other wanted to move beyond mere acquaintances. Or, well, beyond jibing each other every other time they met.

“The thing is,” the mercenary finally continued. “I was _this close_ to almost losing both of them, though to very different circumstances. The reason I’m even here’s because Duncan got sick. So I went here to find a cure, and I found it. But I couldn’t retrieve it.”

“Why not?” Aiden asked.

“Place was ridden with ferals. It was fu-frigging impossible to go at it on my own. I’d just die there, and then Duncan would --” MacCready stopped himself, shaking his head to clear it from whatever images those thoughts had spawned. “Anyways, so I asked for help. Without Nate and Daisy, I couldn’t have saved him. So it’s thanks to them that I can still write to him.”

“They’re good people,” Aiden commented, a bit taken aback by the pure selflessness displayed by the Vaultie and the shopkeeper.

“Yeah, they are. They really, really are,” the ex-gunner concurred.

MacCready excused himself to buy another beer, leaving Aiden to drink and think through what he had just been told. It was strange how the vault-dweller, appearing out of nowhere, just strode right into people’s lives and helped them. Aiden did not believe in good samaritans, meaning there was something else driving the Vaultie to do all these acts of kindness, some other rationale that was not apparent at first glance. Though, whatever motivation Nate had for what he did, MacCready had no doubt gained from their relationship.

So when MacCready once again returned to the table, two beers in hand, Aiden could not help but ask.

“So that’s why you’re infatuated with the Vaultie, then?”

MacCready eyed Aiden carefully, though he did not appear as if he was guilty of whatever Aiden accused him off.

The mercenary hummed before replying. “Like you’re infatuated with the mayor, you mean?”

“No,” Aiden denied too quickly, taken off guard and trying very hard not to blush at the implication. “No, just, he’s cool. Like, I respect him.”

“Uh-huh,” MacCready answered sweetly.

“It’s not, I mean, _I’m_ not -- not that there’s anything wrong with -- what I’m _trying_ to say --”

“Keep it up, Aiden. I’m _this_ close to being convinced,” MacCready interjected, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Fuck you man,” Aiden countered sourly, causing the mercenary to snort in hysteria.

“Oh come on, don’t stop now,” he said laughing.

“Not that it’s any of your business anyway,” the ex-raider muttered. “Why’d you care?”

“I don’t,” MacCready asserted. “But I don’t get why you can’t just admit that you like Hancock.”

“And I don’t get it why you’re so fuckin’ curious. Besides,” Aiden continued. “I never said I _didn’t_ like him.”

“No, no, no,” the mercenary chided Aiden. “ _Like_ -like him..”

Rolling his eyes, Aiden muttered. “‘Cause saying a word twice makes it mean something entirely different.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No. Or is it _no_ -no?”

“Look,” MacCready said pointedly. “It’s obvious what’s going on between you. And now when Hancock’s going away on a trip, you’re up in the middle of the night because you’re already sick missing him.”

“No. I’m up because I slept for an entire day,” Aiden tried to correct MacCready.

“Mm-hmm,” the mercenary hummed. “Suuuure.”

Rolling his eyes, Aiden tried to turn the debate in his favour again.

“I could say the same to you. You’re only up ‘cause you’ll miss your Vaultie.”

Instead of an instant refusal, of which Aiden was prepared to counter, MacCready looked at Aiden as if he was considering some decision. “Know what?” he said after some time. “I’ll be honest with you. If the boss showed any form of interest, I wouldn’t be averse to starting something. But since his first love is the Commonwealth, I’m kinda sure that won’t ever happen. And I’m content with being his friend, if that’s all I get.”

Aiden opened his mouth twice before finding words. “You know, I didn’t actually think you’d admit to it.”

“Why? Because I’m not an emotionally stunted Raider who refuses to admit they have feelings for a person?”

_Subtle._

“Hey,” the ex-raider felt it necessary to defend himself. “It’s not that I don’t admit to it. I just don’t think that Hancock is that interested in anything beyond, well...” Aiden trailed off.

“What? Sex?” the mercenary suggested.

“I was gonna say _looks_ , but, whatever.”

“Have you tried asking him?” MacCready inquired, taking another drink from his almost forgotten beer.

“About?” Aiden asked, gesturing for the mercenary to elaborate while he took a swig from his beer.

“If he likes you back?”

Coughing to clear his throat in order not to draw the old beverage into his lungs, Aiden tried to respond to the ridiculous question. “Is that a real question?” he asked incredulously.

“Are you a real person?” the merc retorted.

Aiden huffed. “You don’t just walk up to somebody and ask them ‘do you like me’. How’d you ever get married?”

“By communicating and not just assuming what the other thinks. _Talkin_. You should try it.”

Feeling put on the spot, Aiden felt the need to oppose the merc’s accusation. “Me and Hancock talks.”

“Yeah?” MacCready replied, not appearing particularly convinced of the fact. “About?”

“... stuff?”

“Uh-huh. Sounds real interesting.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, I’m just handing out good advice. For free, even. Your choice if you want to take it.” MacCready said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, I think I’ve had all good advice I could muster,” Aiden said, getting up from the chair next to MacCready. He bid the mercenary goodnight, thanking for beer and company, and left the bar.

While it was difficult to tell the time of day based on a dark night sky, Aiden figured that Hancock and the Vaultie would still not leave for another few hours. Again feeling something akin to anxiety at the thought of being left behind, Aiden tried to come up with something he could preoccupy himself with, at least until the early hours of morning. After that, well...

Walking towards the State house, Aiden tried to weigh pros against cons of making some trouble in town. Nothing particularly bad, just, something to mix things around. Just enough to perhaps annoy Hancock a bit.

Having to spend a few hours alone in the dungeon was not so bad, and it was nothing compared to coming up with some other type of entertainment for, what was likely to become more than a few days of _down-time_ , as MacCready called it.

_I’d rather be overwhelmingly bored for five hours than face this fucking abyss of monotony._

The thought made Aiden pause, before it sprung a rather interesting idea. While Hancock might not appreciate it, he would probably get over it. Eventually. Hopefully.

Like a man with a purpose, Aiden changed direction and headed towards Daisy’s. After all, he had a very important list of procurements to fulfill before sunrise.


	28. Chapter 28

“You know where we’re headed,” Hancock phrased the statement as a question to the Vaultie as he and Hancock strode out through the gates of Goodneighbor.

Nate hummed in a distracted manner, taking his time to answer the mayor, seemingly engrossed in the display of his pip-boy.

“Yeah, yeah, somewhat,” he answered inattentively, although still without lifting his gaze from the wrist-held screen. “North seems like a good direction.”

Hancock swung his shotgun up on the opposite shoulder, trying to take a closer look on whatever had caught Nate’s attention.

“Not to point out the obvious,” Hancock began, specifying some point of interest on the screen. “But that’s more than a few days walk from here. And while I can go on without sleep for that time, you’re gonna need your shut-eyes at some point.”

Nate shrugged his shoulders. “Well, there’s both Bunker Hill and a Minutemen settlement in between,” Nate replied. “Might possibly be more camps along the way. It’ll be fine.”

Proceeding with a last-minute check of his arsenal, he once again turned to face the Ghoul. “You ready to move out?”

“Ready,” Hancock affirmed, cocking his shotgun in demonstration.

As the two started to walk, Aiden peaked his head up over the debris he was hiding behind. Making a quick check on the small pipe-pistol he borrowed from Daisy (or rather had leased from KL-E-0 by using Daisy as a proxy), he lingered long enough for the two of them to get a good head-start before he launched after, closely following in their footsteps.

Making sure he maintained a sufficient gap between himself and the duo up ahead, Aiden trailed after them, alternating between ducking and hiding behind cover, while letting Hancock and Nate take care of any obstacles in their path. Surprisingly, it worked out well enough. Although he at times lost sight of them, he quickly regained it by increasing his pace.

It was not even noon when the divided group arrived at Bunker Hill. While Aiden still had some ways to go before reaching the actual settlement, he saw both of his supposed targets enter through the maingate. As soon as he was close enough to potentially be seen, he took cover behind a partial barricade, peeking around the corner to again get a visual of the two. The Vaultie stood just inside the entrance of the settlement and was immersed in a discussion with a blond female that Aiden recognised as Kessler, while Hancock, still within hearing distance, casually leaned against the wall of one of the buildings. Unfortunately, due to the way they were positioned, it would be impossible for Aiden to walk into the settlement undetected if he thought to use the same way of entry the two of them had. Instead of risking detection, or just standing there waiting for someone to take notice of him, Aiden headed off to investigate the area closest to the fortified trading hub in order to find another point of entry.

Turning a corner in all haste, Aiden did not account for people hanging around outside of the settlement. Just as he rounded the corner, Aiden ran straight into a guard that was taking his smoking break, causing him to fall headlong to the ground. Scraping his hands, Aiden quickly reared his attention back towards the guard that had unwittingly tripped him.

“Watch it,” Aiden exclaimed, despite the fact that he was the one who had run into the guard, and undeterred by the guard’s courteous offer of his hand.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t see you there,” the guard apologised politely.

Aiden ignored the helping hand in favour of clamber up on his own. Dusting himself off, Aiden examined the man who had, inadvertently or not, toppled him over. He had the same bland appearance as any other caravan guard currently stationed at the settlement. The only item that separated him from the other guards he had seen around, was a pair of dark sunglasses that completely hid his eyes. Although Aiden was quite sure that the man must be a stranger, something about him seemed awfully familiar. Though he could not put his finger on what that might be.

“You seem to be in a hurry,” the guard commented. “Is there somewhere important you need to be? Or rather, somewhere important where you _really_ _shouldn’t_?”

_Excuse me?_

“Mind your own fucking business, brahmin-mucker,” Aiden barked and moved past him, resisting the temptation to stare at the guard over his shoulder.

As odd the encounter was, by the time he had rounded the next corner, Aiden had already left the incident behind him. Approaching what could be considered the back-entrance of Bunker Hill, he once again put his mind to the task before him. Before entering, he peeked inside to ensure that he would not be seen by those he were pursuing. After judging the coast as all-clear, he walked into the settlement while still keeping a watchful eye out for any familiar faces, prepared to duck or roll if the situation demanded it. While slowly but steady making his way towards the market, he once again spotted the vault-dweller bargaining with one of the merchants. Making the assumption that Hancock could not be far away, Aiden quickly snuck past the entrance and set his sights for the big monolith in the middle of the town. The obelisk was tall enough to get a clear view of the settlement, providing Aiden a good hiding spot while still allowing him to keep track of both Nate and Hancock wherever they decided to go.

Aiden climbed the stairs until he reached a makeshift landing. The platform consisted of an opening in the wall, that had been created either by the tides of time or the partly fabled explosion that shook Boston more than 200 years ago, and gave Aiden access to a spectacular view of the maingate. And if he leaned out a bit, he would also be able to see the bar-slash-bunkhouse in the corner of the settlement.

Satisfied with his chosen location, Aiden set out to make himself a more comfortable spying nest. Retrieving a couple of rough blankets from his newly obtained backpack, unpacking a can of Cram together with a spoon, a bottle of water, and some Snack Cakes, Aiden went about to snuggle in, prepared to follow up pursuit once the others planned to leave.

The sun was already setting when Aiden spotted Nate and Hancock as they were conversing with the owner of the lodging. After a transaction, Vaultie made his way up the ramp to the accommodations, while Hancock went the opposite way and soon disappeared out of his sight. Aiden tried to speculate where the mayor was headed, but with little to nothing to go on, he soon dropped that train of thought.

As the vault-dweller would probably be out for a number of hours, Aiden concluded that he would be able to sleep for at least half of that time without needing to worry about them leaving town without him. Rearranging the blankets to form a sort of makeshift bedding, and moving the lantern up a couple of stairs and out of reach for any flailing arms, Aiden tried his best to make himself cozy on the unforgiving and cold stone wall. It was a far cry from the bed that he had become accustomed to in Goodneighbor, though it was nothing he had not done before. Closing his eyes in preparation of sleep, having gone almost 24 hours without it at this point, it did not take long for it to claim him.

Aiden estimated that he had slept for three hours when he was woken by someone speaking to him behind his back. In pure reflex, he grabbed for his pipe-pistol and quickly turned to defend himself against the intruder. Before he got a single shot off, or were able to get a clear look of the individual that had interrupted his slumber, the trespasser quickly kicked the gun from his hand before placing a knee on his arm, effectively incapacitating Aiden and preventing him from further defending himself.

“Don’t you point a gun at me,” the trespasser, or rather non-trespasser (since Aiden was the one who actually snuck in here) growled, in a very distinct and raspy tone of voice that Aiden immediately recognised now that he was not half asleep. “The fuck are you doing here, Aiden.”

Wincing at the realisation that he had been caught, Aiden quickly tried to shake any vestiges of sleep from his mind. “Taking time off to see some sights. I mean, have you seen the view from up here,” Aiden answered, and whistled in over-exaggerated appreciation.

Hancock just sighed in annoyance, giving Aiden a disappointed look before letting go off the ex-raider’s gun hand.

“Not sure what I expected,” he said mostly to himself as he shook his head. “Should’ve known something was up when I didn’t find you before we left.”

Backing away from Aiden, Hancock leaned against the opposite wall of the staircase, arms crossed, aiming an admonishing glare at Aiden before issuing a single vocal command: “Talk.”

_Yup, he’s definitely pissed. Well, not that I’d expected anything differently..._

Aiden frowned and looked away. “Yeah, fine. So, I might have overreacted. A little bit.”

“No shit,” Hancock commented under his breath, obviously none too impressed by Aiden’s recent exploits. “Keep talking.”

Still avoiding Hancock’s gaze, Aiden felt it safer to speak to the blankets in his lap. But even the woven fabric seemed to look at him reproachfully. Once again sighing deeply, Aiden started to explain.

“Look, it’d get too boring without you there, so I figured it wouldn’t harm if I tagged along.”

“Which you did without asking,” Hancock added.

Aiden scowled, not really surprised by Hancock’s vitriol but still not feeling especially appreciative of the tone he used. “I figured you’d just say no.”

“And what made ya figure that.”

“‘Cause you always say no. ‘Cause you said no last time I asked. Come on,” Aiden pleaded. “I just didn’t want to stay behind and try to find stupid shit to do until you got back.”

Hancock did not seem particularly upset, but it was hard to tell in the moody lighting. “Seeing as we’re on the topic of the last time you asked ‘permission’. You were injured. And because you were injured, I felt it my responsibility not to put you at risk. Not mentioning that you have a fucking knack for getting yourself into trouble.” Hancock sighed before continuing. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not the one making the shots here. And Sole’s sleeping, in a bed, like you should’ve.”

“Well, I was sleeping ‘till you woke me up,” Aiden spoke under his breath.

“Not what I meant, and you know it,” Hancock chided harshly, clearly displaying his current level of tolerance for Aiden’s humour. “Look, I’m not sending you back to Goodneighbor on your own. I’ll have a talk with Sole come morning, though I’m not making you any promises. If he says no, you’re staying here until either Fahrenheit picks you up or we do on our way back. No arguments,” Hancock added as Aiden was about to dispute the solution of forcing him to stay there.

Sighing in defeat, Aiden was quickly running out of arguments. “Come on, don’t leave me behind,” Aiden pleaded, before adding a soft _please_ when Hancock did not initially respond.

Melting under Aiden’s dejection, Hancock gave him a sympathetic look before sighing. Leaving his previous post by the wall, Hancock walked up to Aiden before settling down next to him.

“Kid, you have to learn how to ask for things. And if you get a no, deal with it. Don’t just do what you want to anyways.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll ask you next time. Just,” Aiden paused, taking a breath before continuing. “Just don’t leave me behind. I don’t like it.”

 _Not liking it_ was an understatement. Aiden felt terrified at the prospect of being left on his own. Sure, he had never actually been alone, at least not for very long. And for the short while he had been forced to take care of himself, he had wound up up massacring a handful of people ( _if you could call Raiders actual people_ ). Joining up with Skyler as his first course of action, and then moving from faction to faction trying his luck in finding someplace to belong, he never considered the possibility of trying to survive the Wasteland as a one-man crew.

Twice in his life he had found himself deserted, a single survivor amongst piles of rubble and corpses, and the second time it happened, he had been too busy trying to come up with a plan for survival to focus on how eerie it was to find himself in the same position as he had at the very beginning of his career. Fitting, in a way, how life seemed to always go full circle.

Despite it having happened before and that he had obviously powered through it, it was as if he was convinced that if it were to happen again, something terrible would follow. The mere thought of being abandoned made the air seem thicker and somewhat harder to breathe. His hands and fingers tingled, and he felt prickles of cold sweat start in his neck. Wrong. It felt _wrong_. Though just how wrong it felt was difficult, close to impossible to communicate. So he avoided it, just like he would other more tangible threats.

“Can’t make any promises,” Hancock reiterated, breaking Aiden’s solemn musings. While that response left a lot to be desired, it was obvious he would not get more from the mayor.

Staring off into space, he startled when he felt Hancock put his arm around his shoulder.

“Come here,” he said as he gestured for Aiden to come closer.

With little hesitation, Aiden ended up with his head on the Ghoul’s shoulder and his hands resting on the other man’s lower abdomen. While he was initially a bit reluctant to completely relax, the closeness was starting to get to him.

Aiden sighed silently in relief, partly because Hancock did not appear too upset that he had invited himself along to this excursion. But he could not deny that part of it was due to the comfort he got by leaching of the warmth the mayor was radiating, which appeared to loosen sore muscles that had objected to the torment of sleeping on the cold floor.

“You’re like a stove,” Aiden said, moving his hands up and down on Hancock’s abdomen.

“And you really need to work on your poetic delivery,” Hancock replied, seemingly not at all bothered by having the ex-raider’s cold hands tracing the contours of his stomach. Most probably not feeling it through the fabric of his waistcoat.

Aiden snorted. “Fuck you, man. There’s nothing wrong with my prose. If you don’t get it, it’s your _interpretation_ that’s faulty.”

“Nah, I’m interpreting you just fine. And I’m not the one who just took the whole ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’ way too literally.”

Aiden laughed, and tried to quickly gain control of himself by burying his face in Hancock’s collar. He did not know if it was him being overly tired, or if he was slowly getting more relaxed as he was getting warmer, but there was this feeling at the bottom of his stomach that made him content, cheerful even.

Moving his hands up and down Hancock’s chest made them even warmer, and to give himself a better reach inside of Hancock’s coat, Aiden repositioned himself to sit on Hancock’s lap, face-to-face with the man.

Aiden peeked down at Hancock from his new perch. “Come on, what man wouldn’t like to be likened to a cube made out of iron and fire?”

Hancock used the tips of his fingers to attentively trace the shape of Aiden’s jaw and neck before settling the hand at his cheek, looking at him with an affectionate expression. “You sayin’ I look like a square?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in a provocative way.

“You’re so not getting it,” Aiden commented, pushing his cheek towards the hand to more fully feel Hancock’s hardened although soft skin against his face. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re hot.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widened with the realisation of how Hancock would interpret that very ill-phrased statement. “I-I-I mean, what I’m trying to say --” Aiden tried to backtrack, feeling himself blush. And he must have turned a spectacular shade of pink if Hancock’s reaction was anything to go by, as the Ghoul awarded Aiden with a deep and throaty laugh, causing him flush even further.

“Fuck you, man,” Aiden commented and stared out the make-shift window, too embarrassed to meet Hancock’s eyes. Crossing his arms, Aiden tried to look at anything but the man while the other settled down. It did not take very long before the Ghoul stop chortling, and as the laughter died down, Aiden felt a hand gently grab his chin, angling Aiden’s attention back towards the Ghoul.

“Thank you, Aiden,” Hancock acknowledged, though it was unclear if the Ghoul was thanking him for the compliment or for giving him the laugh of his life. “You know, you’re not so bad lookin’ yourself.”

Aiden huffed, still miffed at being made fun of.

“Hey,” Hancock said, asking for Aiden’s attention. “It’s not everyday a guy like me gets that kind of praise from a handsome guy like yourself. Can ya really blame me?”

“No reason to act like an asshole,” Aiden muttered.

“Come on, I meant nothing by it. I was just surprised. Never took you for the forward one,” Hancock admitted, ruffling Aiden’s hair.

“Fuck you,” Aiden said, though the tone belied the words, and so did the smile that was pulling the corner of his mouth. Hancock must have noticed the change in mood, because a mirroring smile spread on his face as well.

“If you like,” Hancock offered. Aiden was about to retort when Hancock silenced his objections with a kiss. When Hancock withdrew, Aiden felt sluggish, unsure of what to say or do, while his eyes kept returning to the mayor’s mouth.

Humming to himself, Hancock kept stroking Aiden’s hair, drawing it away from the ex-raider’s face, while the other purred appreciating. “What does a young guy like you see in a Ghoul like me, huh?” Hancock asked wistfully. It was probably not directed at Aiden but it spoke a lot about the otherwise outwardly confident male that controlled the rowdiest settlement in the Commonwealth, not counting Raider territory.

“What does the Mayor of Goodneighbor see in a Raider?” Aiden countered anyways. Regardless if the question was directed towards him or not, he did not like the forlorn expression Hancock wore. The comment had the intended effect, as it did cause Hancock to change his expression, though maybe not for the intended reason.

“You know that’s not how I see you, right?” Hancock asked with a frown, using a hand to rub Aiden’s leg in a comforting manner. Although Aiden suspected it was more a comfort for Hancock than it was for Aiden.

“Then why’d you think I see you as a Ghoul foremost?”

Even if Hancock did not appear completely convinced, he seemed willing enough to let the topic go, putting his focus on where it was due.

Using his hand, Hancock beckoned Aiden’s face closer to his, and while Aiden had anticipated the kiss, it still came as a shock to once more feel the Ghoul’s lips pressed against his own. It was a chaste thing, over before Aiden could really reciprocate. Hancock let his mouth travel along Aiden’s jaw, nipping the skin, until he reached the place where his jaw met his neck. The Ghoul pressed his lips carefully to the junction, and then to the shell of Aiden’s ear, causing a full-body shiver to travel down the ex-raider’s spine. Hancock took a deep breath before blowing the hot air out as he whispered closely to Aiden’s ear.

“I just consider myself real lucky to have an attractive guy like you fall into my lap. Not sure what I did to deserve that,” he said, the words and the voice causing tingles to spread from the very tip of Aiden’s ear and down his neck.

Aiden opened his mouth to respond, but was immediately derailed as Hancock decided to continue his exploration of Aiden’s neck using his mouth, tracing the tendons with soft feather-like kisses.

To prevent himself from keeling over, or accidentally leaning too far out, Aiden put his hands on the Ghoul’s shoulders, using them as support to hold himself upright. Even though Aiden fully appreciated the way Hancock was trying to unravel him, their current position was rather precarious. A single thoughtless move was all it would take for them to fall off of the tower, ending this evening rather abruptly.

Feeling it important to point out this environmental hazard, Aiden tried to communicate his worries to the Ghoul. “Is this really --” he began but was quickly interrupted by Hancock as he decided to take a bite out of his shoulder.

“Less talk,” Hancock said, words partly muffled by Aiden’s skin. “Unless you feel like stopping?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Aiden quickly answered, moving his hands to get a better grip on Hancock’s coat in order to avoid falling off the crumbling wall. Apparently, that was the correct action, as Aiden received another bite-mark in return for his enthusiastic cooperation.

“Good boy,” Hancock growled into his skin. Aiden bit back a moan as something ignited inside of him at those innocently (or not so innocently) spoken words. “Oh, you liked that?” Hancock commented, immediately picking up on Aiden’s reaction.

“Shut up,” Aiden said on an exhale, as Hancock kept marking him with his rather sharp canines.

“Is it just the praise, or…?” Hancock tried to elicit more information from Aiden, receiving a very non-threatening glare for his troubles.

“Shut up.”

“Or maybe it’s just the ‘good boy’ that’s doing it for you?” Hancock continued to speculate. “How ‘bout it, Aiden?”

“None, neither,” Aiden tried to deny, as he felt Hancock sneak a hand up on the inside of his shirt.

“You sure?” Hancock asked with his honeycomb voice. “‘Cause I could’ve sworn your little friend here became very happy when I showed you my appreciation,” he said, dragging the ex-raider closer, putting the very topic of the conversation in close approximation with Hancock’s own. “See? Very, _very_ happy.”

Aiden did everything in his power not to thrust against the mayor, hiding his spectacular blush by burrowing his head in Hancock’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to hide from me,” Hancock said, lips pressed to the other’s neck. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

Aiden opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a gasp as Hancock chose that moment trace the inside seam of his pants leg, up and over the not inconsiderably sized bulge that tented the front of his pants.

“ _Definitely_ nothing to be ashamed of,” Hancock said, emphasizing his words by cupping Aiden with his hand.

“Haaancock...!” Aiden moaned, not sure if he should be mortified or annoyed at the man.

“You keep saying my name like that and this night is gonna have an early end,” Hancock said, using his own hand to rearrange himself. “What I wouldn’t do for a bed right about now.”

Using his hands, Hancock picked Aiden up, and in a great display of strength, turned him around. Aiden suddenly found himself with his back to Hancock’s chest, where the latter was already busy stroking his chest and stomach over his clothes.

“As much as I appreciate upper-body strength, don’t just throw me around like a --” Aiden interrupted himself with a gasp when Hancock dragged his nails over one of his nipples.

“Like a…?” Hancock inquired.

“Like --” Aiden tried again and got equally as far this time before silencing himself, throwing his head back on Hancock’s shoulder, unsure whether he wanted to get away or push his chest up towards the stimulation.

“I’m only just now getting to know all these interesting details about you,” Hancock said, using his hand to tease and worry Aiden’s pebbled nipple, who could do nothing else than squirm and moan in response. “How come you never tell me things like _this_?” The word was accentuated with a pinch, causing an electric shock to go through Aiden.

Aiden’s pants were really starting to strain. But since he had about as much control over his limbs as a tree, he could not take actions to alleviate the pressure.

“That doesn’t look comfortable,” Hancock stated, moving one hand down between Aiden’s legs, stroking Aiden’s length through the fabric of his pants.

Aiden groaned, and trying to take the matter into his own hands now that Hancock no longer tried to rub holes into his shirt, he reached for the buttons of his pants.

“Hands off,” Hancock said, swatting away Aiden’s feeble attempt at getting himself out. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Argh!” Aiden exclaimed. “Now, please?” he asked, receiving a bite in his neck for his troubles.

“What? You’re late for an appointment? Learn some patience.”

“Fuck you and your patience,” Aiden swore, but obediently removed his hands, placing one of them behind Hancock’s head, and the other one above the mayor’s hand resting on his stomach.

Despite the earlier comment, Hancock opened up Aiden’s pants to the other’s immediate relief.

“If I’d known you were coming to join us,” Hancock said, gently dragging Aiden’s underwear out of the way. “I would’ve brought lube with me.”

Despite the situation, Aiden could not help but to snort at that. “Is it something you carry around often?” Aiden had to ask, subtly spreading his legs to give Hancock better access.

The mayor hummed in assent. “You never know when you might need a good bottle of oil,” he said, pulling Aiden’s length out of it’s confines, finally grasping it with his hand. Aiden sighed in pleasure, feeling himself start to relax against the Ghoul now that he did not feel as if he was confined.

“Though, seeing as you’re young,” Hancock began, using the the pad of his thumb to spread a pearl of precome over the head, the act accompanied with an indecent moan from Aiden. “We might be able to make do.”

Aiden saw how Hancock brought the hand he had just touched Aiden with to his mouth, licking the fingers and wetting these with saliva. Even before Hancock had returned them to their previous position, Aiden started to shiver in anticipation. After feeling the difference between a dry hand and the wet one, Aiden thoroughly agreed with the previously expressed sentiment.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he murmured breathlessly, feeling that coil in his lower abdomen slowly start to tighten, his hand in the ghoul’s neck gripping harder in response.

“Yeah?” Hancock whispered, in Aiden’s ear, pulling Aiden tighter towards him with one hand on his stomach before weaving his fingers with Aiden’s. “Think you can cum from this?”

The ex-raider gasped loudly. “I don’t think I can prevent it,” he replied, already starting to feel close if only by the words alone.

Hancock bit into Aiden’s ear, almost causing Aiden to lose it. “Oh, I like that sound,” Hancock commented as he licked the indents of his teeth, soothing the abused flesh. “Can you feel how much I like it?” he asked, making a small thrust upwards. Aiden felt the hardness between his legs, making it very clear to what extent Hancock enjoyed having him in his lap.

“You know what I’d do if I had that bottle with me?” Hancock continued, slowing down the pace in which he was driving Aiden insane with lust. Aiden shook his head, looking up at Hancock. “With some lube, I could just take one or two fingers, sliding them down here,” he said, giving a practical demonstration by moving his hand from Aiden’s arousal, and down towards his puckered entrance. “And then I’d start opening you right up.”

Without entering, Hancock began to slowly massage the tight muscle, circling it and pushing, giving Aiden a very dirty image of what he could have done. Aiden gasped at the hot feeling that crashed through his body, surprised by his own desire for the picture Hancock was painting, his neglected hard-on weeping in response to his body’s enthusiastic approval.

“You’re getting real wet, Aiden,” Hancock commented, repositioning his hand once again, and swiping the wet head with his coarse thumb, slowly spreading the viscous fluid over the sensitive gland while Aiden jerked in response to the stimulation. “Real wet. Dripping, almost. Maybe even enough for me to slick my fingers and feel how tight you’d be.”

The picture was irresistible, causing liquid lust to crash through Aiden, his head almost swimming with need.

“Fuck me,” Aiden whispered.

“Wazzat?” Hancock asked, as if he himself had been caught up in the fantasy he himself had created.

“Fuck me,” Aiden repeated a bit louder.

“Heh, I’d love to sunshine, but that ain’t gonna happen without something to ease the way in.”

“Please?” Aiden asked urgently, looking up at the Ghoul while trying his best to prevent himself from thrusting into that tight grip to an early completion.

Giving Aiden a wet kiss, he upped the pace of his hand, causing Aiden to writhe in response.

“Oh, believe me when I say that I want to take you up on that offer,” he continued, his lips to Aiden’s ear. “But I’m not gonna. You know why?”

Aiden was having difficulties following the conversation, gasping like a fish out of water. Though he shook his head, trying his best to stave off the release he was so close to having.

“‘Cause when I fuck you, it won’t be in a fucking decrepit tower in the middle of Boston,” Hancock explained. “When I fuck you, you’re gonna be tied to the headboard of your bed, and I’m gonna watch you come all over yourself time and time again, until you’re all emptied out.”

Aiden crashed into his orgasm, about to scream before Hancock covered his mouth with his free hand, continuing to jerk Aiden off to prolong his release. Once the other started to whine of oversensitivity, Hancock stopped, removing both of his hands, including the one he had used to silence the ex-raider.

Hancock nuzzled his face into Aiden’s neck, doing a couple of small thrusts upwards, making it obvious he had not yet tipped over the edge.

Aiden opened his mouth to talk, but all that came out was a hoarse groan. He coughed twice to clear his throat before turning his attention towards Hancock. “Can I do something…?” he asked, letting Hancock decide what he wanted from him.

“Nah. Being a Ghoul, this ain’t likely to lead to anything. Just feels good.”

“I can --” Aiden began but was interrupted when Hancock chose that moment to kiss him.

It was different than the other kisses they had shared. Deeper, more intense, more like a promise of something heartfelt rather than an expression for lust. Aiden opened his mouth, feeling Hancock taste him, caress the inside of his mouth with his tongue, and he could not help but to moan at the heady feeling. When the Ghoul eventually withdrew, Aiden felt drunk on him.

“It’s alright. You need to sleep.”

“But --” Aiden wanted to interject.

“Sleep,” the Ghoul commented with finality, leaving no room for discussion.

Huffing, Aiden rested his head on Hancock’s shoulder. As soon as he had made himself comfortable, Hancock buried one of his hands in Aiden’s hair, and started to massage his scalp.

“Sleep. I’ll wake ya’ before I leave.”

While Aiden more often than not made a point not to follow such blatant orders, it was hard to deny Hancock anything while feeling those coarse fingers run through his hair. Trying to acknowledge Hancock’s statement, Aiden could not remember whether he managed to answer, or if he fell asleep before that.

True to his word, Hancock woke him up as he was leaving. Though Aiden suspected he would have woken anyways since his interim, and surprisingly comfortable pillow consisting of Hancock’s chest, would have left with the man.

Although somewhat dazed, he managed to nod his understanding to the instruction to wait for Hancock and Nate by the base of the obelisk. As soon as the mayor was sufficiently convinced that Aiden had received (and more importantly, understood) the information, he walked back down the stairs and out of the tower.

Once alone, Aiden packed up his gear (including the pipe-pistol Hancock had managed to kick halfway down the staircase), and followed in Hancock’s footsteps.

It took about a quarter of an hour before the vault-dweller arrived with Hancock in tow, and it took Aiden only moments after seeing the somber way Nate was observing him to realise that this interaction would not go the way he wanted it to. As the Vaultie went to stand in front of him, he gave Hancock some wordless instruction before the Ghoul left the two of them on their own.

Aiden was still following Hancock’s departure with his eyes when Nate cleared his throat in a clear indication of wanting his attention.

“So, I hear you shadowed us from Goodneighbor,” he said, his voice devoid of any implication, negative or otherwise.

A bit unsure as to where the vault-dweller was heading with this thread of conversation, Aiden answered with a noncommittal shrug. The answer did not seem to faze the Vaultie.

“Honestly,” Nate continued. “I’m sort of impressed that you managed to pursue us without either me or John noticing you. I’ll give you that. However,” he said before pausing. “My reservations for letting you come along is of an entirely different character.”

The realisation of what Nate was about to say hit Aiden both suddenly and forcefully, as well as filled him with trepidation, coming to the realisation that this interaction would most likely result in him to being sent to the bench for this trip.

“You don’t think I’ll follow your orders,” Aiden blurted out, his fears confirmed when Nate nodded in confirmation.

“I’m not up for having a loose gun at my back,” Nate explained. “And I think you can understand that as well.”

What was painfully clear was that he was about to be stranded in Bunker Hill. _Alone_. And this time, there was no doubt in Aiden’s mind that both Nate and Hancock would be extremely vigilant of any unwanted followers. Pulling the same trick twice was a sure way to find himself on not only Nate’s, but also Hancock’s bad side, if not getting himself accidentally shot.

Aiden groaned. He was deeply disappointed that he had come this far only to end up having to watch their backs as they disappeared off in the distance, leaving him stranded in the most boring trading hub of Boston. He had spent hours preparing, stocking up on supplies, packing equipment in preparation for the road, and in the end, all he had to show for it was the dirt on his boots and a kink in his neck from having slept on the stone floor.

It hurt in a way, but it was not like Aiden was new to the feeling of being let down.

“Fuck. Fine, whatever. I’ll just...” Aiden began, though could not come up with something to tell the vault-dweller over the growing sounds of alarms in his head.

Feeling close to breaking down, and not in particular in the mood to do it in front of the vault-dweller, Aiden tried to wrap up the conversation and leave. “Fine. Safe travels, or somethin’,” he said and turned to walk away.

Before making it more then a step, he felt a firm hand grabbing him by the shoulder, and trying to shrug it off proved to be impossible. With mounting frustration, Aiden growled his displeasure at being denied a dignified exit. “Can’t you just let me go? You said your piece and I got your message. Can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“But I didn’t so to speak, ‘say my piece’,” Nate paraphrased. “I told you I had _reservations_ , not that I would reject you right off. You prove to me you can follow my orders without issue, then you and I have no problem.”

Still feeling as if he was standing on the edge of the abyss, Aiden had his own reservations for believing this was going to end in anything but him watching the both of them walk away.

“And how’d you expect me to prove that?” Aiden asked skeptically.

“Well,” the vault-dweller began, most likely silently considering plausible ways to make Aiden’s life a living hell. At least, that is what Aiden would do in his situation. “I give you an order and you follow it, without question, and without complaints. You think that would be something you’re up for?”

Aiden’s scepticism was probably obvious.

“Look,” Nate tried to explain. “It won’t be above what you’re capable of. Just say yes, and show me you’re able to follow orders. Alright?”

“Fine, sure. Whatever.” Aiden rolled his eyes, which Nate apparently took as confirmation to continue.

“Great. First, I don’t want you to jump to any conclusions, so just listen. I want you to stay here, in Bunker Hill, until me and Hancock get back from --”

The road beneath Aiden’s feet felt as if it had suddenly had disappeared right from under him.

“You fucking asshole! Is this some sort of twisted game to you? I’ve had fucking enough of your bull.” Aiden turned to leave again, and his exit was again, unsurprisingly, thwarted by the vault-dweller’s hand on his shoulder. This time though, Aiden had no patience for whatever Nate was about to say. Throwing the hand off, Aiden turned to shout at the man to leave him alone. Only to gain a hand over his mouth for his troubles.

“You know, listening until being dismissed is also a _really good virtue_ when it comes to following orders,” Nate said casually.

Aiden tried to remove the offending hand to tell him exactly where he could shove his orders, but were unable to get a word out.

“Stop wriggling and just listen. There’s a house a couple of blocks down the street that I want to check out before we head on. We’ll be gone for a couple of hours at the most. If you manage to sit still on your ass until we get back, I’ll take that as proof that you’re actually capable of doing what you’re asked. Alright? Just be ready to leave when we get back.”

Nate backed away from Aiden, allowing him his personal space back and some time to think.

Aiden did not buy it.

“So this isn’t just an elaborate way of leaving me behind?”

Nate made a face of confusion. “No, and that sort of comment tells me that you and I need to have some serious conversations about trust. But in anycase, if I see you following us, deals off. Hancock will ask Fahrenheit to come pick you up before we move on, and we’ll part ways until we return to Goodneighbor.”

Aiden made a face clearly displaying what he thought of that alternative.

“Am I making myself clear?” Nate asked.

“Like irradiated water,” Aiden mumbled. “Fine. A couple of hours? Sure, I can wait.”

“Good. At ease, then. So just, stay out of trouble, and we’ll see you when we get back.”

Upon receiving Aiden’s acknowledgement, Nate nodded in affirmation before departing. Looking in the direction the vault-dweller was heading revealed the Ghoul mayor leaning on the wall next to the gate. As Nate got closer, Hancock asked something in a voice too low for Aiden to hear from the distance, to which Nate shrugged before answering. After what looked like a quick glance at his pip-boy, Nate took lead and walked out of Bunker Hill.

Still not convinced that they were not in fact leaving him behind, Aiden rushed to the gate to at least get a glimpse of the direction the two of them were heading. Reaching the gate, Aiden saw them heading south, just as the Vaultie had said they would. With nothing else to do, he leaned against the gate and tracked their trek from afar. Though before they disappeared out of sight, Nate turned his head and met Aiden’s eyes. Too far away to properly read his expression, Aiden could only see Nate turning his head back in the direction they were walking, and before long, they were both out of sight.

_Now what._

Nate’s previous peek over his shoulder spoke highly of the level of alertness they had and planned to apply moving forward. While Aiden had no way of knowing if the vault-dweller was going to keep his word, trying to stalk after them and accidentally getting caught would end the same way, regardless of what the Vaultie’s original intentions had been. Not that he was already considering breaking his promise within five minutes of making it.

He might not like it, but the only way for Aiden to win was to play the game Nate had set up the rules for. While he might not like it, Aiden did not want to consider the consequences of going straight against the Vaultie’s explicitly stated instructions. Throwing a last glance to where he saw the duo disappear, Aiden sighed in disappointment, before leaving his perch by the exit and slowly making his way in the direction of the bar.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for still staying with me, despite the rather random update frequency! <3

Aiden sat nursing his second beer, listening with half an ear as the bartender kept arguing with his son, and using the rest of his attention to observe what was happening around him. While the settlement seemed busy enough from an _industrial_ stand-point, not much seemed to be going on. Caravans arrived, caravans left, settlers bought goods and sold produce while the inhabitants of Bunker Hill executed any other function that needed to be done in order to keep the place running. Boring. So, _very_ , boring.

While Aiden had been to Bunker Hill previously, he had never stayed beyond what was absolutely necessary. Luckily enough, back in those days he had worn a sack-hood to cover his face. Not that he had been embarrassed about his occupation or had wanted to conceal his identity, but it had always felt sensible to not allow himself to be easily read by the settlers. It always made people uneasy when they were not able to interpret his intentions, and their anxiety had always served him well. People’s imagination could be their own worst enemy. If settlers thought Aiden would hurt them beyond their wildest imagination for not cooperating, they most often came to the conclusion to desist rather than resist. Though, there were always times he had to reinforce their imagination with practical displays of force. Or possible mutilation. In any case, having previously hidden his features, he did not really need to worry that he would be recognised. Probably. Hopefully.

Although his conduct did not bother him at the time, in hindsight, he was less than proud of his previous accomplishments, and while he might have been good at what he did, he no-longer had any use for that particular skillset. It was not quite regret he was feeling, but there was no doubt that he was less than comfortable with his past life-choices and actions. When he saw the profile of Kessler hurry past, the unease only grew.

Keeping her in his peripheral, Aiden tightened his shoulders in preparation for the worst case scenario, but she barely register his presence as she rushed past, took practically no notice of the ex-raider where he sat by the bar. Seeing her back as she pushed off, the fact that she did not recognise him should have eased his mind, but he still felt somewhat uneasy. Contemplating what would have happened had she been able to connect Aiden in his current outfit with they sack-hooded prick and his old gang of assholes, he was unsure of what he would do. Should he apologise? Would she expect him to?

Not for the first time Aiden realised he had a hard time trying to reconcile his past life with his current one, and more importantly, how he should feel about what he had done. As bittersweet the thought was of pretending it never happened, Aiden could not quite deceive himself to that extent. Nor wanted to. It had happened, and it undeniably changed him and the way he perceived the world around him. Had he liked it? No. But did he regret it? That… was a bit more difficult to answer. As muddled as he felt, he had no-one to discuss these rather jumbled feelings.

While Hancock would probably listen should he choose to disclose these thoughts, the mayor probably expected him to be more remorseful about what he had done than he actually felt, and Aiden was not confident enough to put their bond to the test if he had misinterpreted Hancock’s accepting nature. Aiden could acknowledge that he liked Hancock, and the Ghoul probably mirrored those feelings to some extent, but he could not help but to feel like the mayor’s feelings were based on somewhat skewered presumptions. And when the other shoe dropped, Aiden did not think the longevity of his stay in Goodneighbor would continue beyond necessary. While depressing, the fact that his days in the rowdy settlement was numbered seemed to be a recurring thought these days.

Taking another gulp of the swill Joe Savoldi had served him, Aiden tried to shake those morose reflection from his head. To distancing himself from his inner monologue, he tried to once more to observe his surroundings. Resting his eyes on the gate, Aiden took notice of another caravan arriving. While the event in itself was rather mundane, one of the caravan guards sparked his interest. Even with his back turned, there was something eerily familiar about him.

While Aiden should not have known the man standing by the gate, who was currently making lively conversation with the other caravaners, he seemed to remind him of someone he once knew.

Aiden tried to place together pieces of memories that caused him to have an interest in this guard in the first place, what features the caravaner possessed to cause these feelings recognition. Searching in his most recent memories landed him in Diamond city, and a conversation with a certain synth detective. An old case where a proclaimed caravan guard had filed a report of his missing brother. While he had rejected the information at the time, in the light of seeing this specific caravan arrive, it might have been hasty decision. Especially from the angle Aiden was watching the group, the male had an uncanny likeness to the brother he last saw running into a burning house.

Feeling curious and with nothing else to do with his time, Aiden got up from his seat by the bar, his half empty beer left abandoned, and hiked towards the newly arrived convoy in the hopes of getting a closer look.

He strode at a moderate pace, ensured that he, sooner or later, would notice something, some detail or flaw of which he could disregard the male as a potential look-alike for his brother. Despite that the distance between them was decreasing, no such detail sprung up. Quite the opposite: the closer he found himself, the more he caravan guard seemed to look like his arguably late brother. And not only did he look like him, he looked _exactly_ like Aiden remembered him, as if this person was a perfect carbon copy of his brother from 7 years ago. The wideness of his shoulders, the stance, the way he moved as he talked, the color of his hair, everything, every single attribute was spot on.

Aiden increased his pace, his heart hammering in his chest and something heavy coiling in his stomach. It should have been impossible. He was sure he saw him die! But if his brother was dead, who was this caravaner?

When he was but 30 feet from the crowd by the gate, his attention focused solely on the guard that was turning his head in a direction that would make his profile visible from Aiden’s point of view, he suddenly felt two hands grab him from behind, a gloved hand pressed tightly over his mouth before he was forcefully dragged in the direction of the obelisk.

Aiden tried to get out of the tight hold, but could not dislodge the perpetrators grip on him. Digging his heels in the earth to stop their trekk only caused the other to lift him from the ground before pushing him onwards. Elbowing or wrestling only allowed the other to become rougher when handling him. All efforts were quickly thwarted, and the tower only got closer.

As soon as they had entered the tall building, his would-be abductor suddenly released him, or rather pushed him further into the tower before standing in the doorway, blocking off Aiden’s only exit.

Working a second to get his feet back from under him, and with his hands free, Aiden drew his gun and turned with the intention of shooting the bastard in the face.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man said, raising his hands in the air. “No need for that pal. I was merely helping you not make the worst mistake of your life. Well, worst mistake _up to this point_ of your life. Can’t promise you won’t come up with an even worse plan later on.”

While the man’s babbling helped to put Aiden at ease that this was not some cold blooded murderer, it did not explain why he had suddenly been abducted by --

“Wait, you’re that guy, the cow-mucker that tripped me!”

“Awww, you do remember me. I’m touched. Look, you do not want to get entangled with the caravaners. Or rather, you don’t want to get involved with _that particular group_ of caravaners. Trust me.”

_‘Trust me’?_

“Yeah, sure,” Aiden scoffed. “Put trust in the man that just kidnapped me. I mean, why wouldn’t I trust someone like that? So many signs of good character, practically shoved down my throat.”

The caravan guard grimaced. “Ok, when you put it like it might sound bad, but you really should trust me on this one. Let me put it like this then. I have a friend, of a friend, of a friend, who's a friend of _the_ vault-dweller. That makes us practically family.”

Aiden winced at the reference, before sneering towards the guard. “Funny you should mention that --” he began but was quickly interrupted.

“He isn’t your brother,” the male continued. “Well, at least not as you remember him.”

Aiden felt his jaw drop. Despite being presented undeniable details that seemed to point in that direction, he had not actually believed that the male he spotted from the bar was his brother. And now a total stranger were saying things that seemed to confirm his previous suspicions. “Wait. Wait just a second. What the fuck do you know about my brother?”

“Nothing,” the caravaner was quick to deny. “Or Everything. Somewhere in between. Who knows?”

Feeling fed-up with being spoonfed bullshit from the guard opposite him, Aiden once again raised his gun, aiming it between the eyes of the man, right where his ridiculous sun-glasses connected.

“You,” Aiden began, his voice taking on a cold and calculating edge, the type of voice he had usually reserved for people he was trying to extort way back when, what now felt like a lifetime ago. “Apparently you do. And if you don’t want your brain-matter painted on the wall behind you, you’re going to share exactly what it is you know, and why the fuck you know it. So start _fucking_ talking!”

The caravan guard made a tsking noise while slowly shaking his head, giving Aiden a hint of just how difficult it would be to intimidate this man.

“And here I thought you’d left your Raider days behind you,” the guard said disappointed, the tone enough to raise Aiden’s hackles. “Guess you can take the Raider out of the gangs, but can’t take the gang out of the Raider, huh.”

Aiden growled at the comment. It was not like he wanted to sink to this level, but the other left him no choice. “Shut the _fuck_ up! I’ve had absolutely _fucking_ enough if this! Just tell me what I want to know!”

“But that’s just the thing,” the caravaner began, not raising his voice beyond that of a regular conversation, denying Aiden the satisfaction of riling the man up. “I don’t think you _want_ to know what you’re asking me to tell you. So how about you put down the gun, we walk over to Savoldi’s, and then talk about old-world literature over a beer, or moonshine, or whatever wets your whistle. Don’t that sound a lot more --”

Aiden cocked the gun.

“-- or not. Come on Aiden, put down the gun. You don’t want Nate to walk in on us like this. It will be all sorts of embarrassing for you.”

Refusing to budge, despite the alarming amount of information this unknown individual apparently knew about him, including his name, he kept his aim steady.

“Almost as embarrassing as having your brains blown out?” Aiden sneered in return.

The other only raised an eyebrow at the comment. “Dying isn’t shameful. Not that I’d like to try it, mind you, since I aim to keep dying, or almost dying, to a bare minimum in my daily diet.” The male sighed before continuing. “Look, just,” the guard began, acting like he was both disappointed and despondent by Aiden’s behaviour. “Just, put it down. Don’t resort to violence as your main knee-jerk reaction to frustration.”

The ex-raider felt he had just about enough bullshit from the caravaner to last him a lifetime. Ignoring his pointed comments, Aiden tried to get the conversation back on track to what he was trying to elicit from the rather hard-headed guard. “I said: what the fuck is it that you know. And who _the fuck_ are you anyways? How the fuck do you even know about me?”

“I told you --”

Aiden once again cocked the gun, giving the other a clear signal that his patience was running out, and fast. “You told me nothing! Which is part of the _fucking_ problem!”

The caravan guard opened his mouth to talk but abruptly silenced himself, appearing as if he were listening for something. Although what that was remained a mystery.

Curious as he was, Aiden tried to hear what had gotten the other’s attention, put could not distinguish one sound from the other in the distorted echoes that bounced of the walls.

“I’m saying this for your sake, Aiden,” the guard suddenly began. “Put down the gun. Now,” he ordered, uncharacteristically more serious than he had been during the previous part of their conversation. The urgency of the man’s words clearly projected, although thoroughly ignored by Aiden.

“My sake?” Aiden jeered before laughing humorlessly. “Sure you’re not saying it for the sake of keeping your head lead free? _Fuck you_ , man.”

The guard shook his head. “Nope, your sake. Pretty sure that Nate, who just entered Bunker Hill by the way, will take serious offence at your little tantrum. I mean, threatening the people of a peaceful settlement? Really? You’d definitely be better off holstering it. Just saying.”

While Aiden could not confirm nor refute the accuracy of the guards statement, it still gave him something to think about. What _if_ Hancock and the Vaultie walked in on them? Would that really matter? Aiden could just explain…

_Explain what? That I was threatening a guy because he refused to tell me what I wanted to know?_

Aiden had the distinct impression that his current explanation would not go down well with the vault-dweller, nor the mayor of Goodneighbor for that matter. Because, despite how the guard had initially dragged him here without explanation, he had not shown aggression even once since they entered the tower. And the reason that Aiden was currently pointing a loaded pistol between the eyes of the caravan guard, could not be excused as an action of self-defence. Even now, he could still picture himself pulling the trigger, feeling the imagined rush that came with making such a definitive decision, watching as the victim’s head exploded in a rain of gore and blood. And those thoughts were undeniably not of the kind that he would associate with either ‘protection’ or ‘self perseverance’. Although the guard had only called him out on his behaviour as being similar to that of a Raider, Aiden could almost feel how his actions were starting to have an affect on his judgement.

“Aiden, sometime today? Time is actually of the essence here. Put down the gun,” the guard reiterated, though this time in a more insistent tone of voice.

Still not willing to relinquish the only hold he still had on the guard, the seriousness of the guard’s words were starting to have an effect on Aiden, and it was making him nervous. Which was a really bad combination with having your finger on the trigger.

“Aiden?” the guard called as he took a step closer.

The ex-raider tried to take a step back, but was practically cornered. There was no space to back away. He still held the gun steady, aiming for the man’s eyes.

“Aiden, come on,” the guard said, taking another step in his direction.

_What if he’s actually telling the truth?_

Still undecided whether he should listen to the man opposite him or act on his first impulse, Aiden flitted his attention between the caravan guard and the exit behind him, while the guard himself was slowly making his way across the floor, moving closer by the second.

“Just, put it down, before anyone sees us,” the guard said, obviously putting effort into moving as softly and as non-threateningly as possible towards him. Despite this, the shortening in distance between them was adding to his nerves, and Aiden was at this point considering pulling the trigger just to get him to stop moving.

The guard stopped advancing once he was little more than an arm’s length away from Aiden, effectively trapping him, but not close enough to just grab the weapon.

“Aiden, come on, just holster it.”

Aiden dared not blink. Seeing as the man was standing just in front of the barrel, Aiden would have little time to react if the guard tried something. Though, in the guard’s defence, he made no hasty movements that could have spooked the ex-raider into inadvertently pushing the trigger. He merely stood there, waiting for Aiden to make his move.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Aiden felt the hairs in his neck dampening, and his grip on the pistol getting slippery. The guard was too close for comfort, and making himself vulnerable in this situation by lowering his weapon was not a compromise he was willing to make.

Though, as the silence grew thicker, the only sounds heard were those of him and the other male breathing. In the quiet, the sounds of footsteps heading in their direction could clearly be distinguished. Though the footsteps could have belonged to anyone _but_ the Vaultie, and could possibly be heading in the direction of the market rather than the tower, cold dread had crept up his spine at the thought of Nate and Hancock entering, seeing this scene unfold. But as the caravan guard was positioned between him and the door, he had no way of determining if any of those things were true. The only thing he could discern was that the steps were getting louder.

And louder.

And _louder_.

As the steps stopped increasing in volume right outside the tower, the sound halting in its progress, he heard whoever out there take a deep breath.

“Aiden, you in there?” Nate shouted.

Aiden jerked, though managed to keep his finger from pushing the trigger, if only by a hair. He stared at the guard, and confirmed that he too had noticed just how close he came to being shot. This time, when the guard approached the last few feet, Aiden did not resist. The male took the gun from Aiden’s hands before he holstered it in Aiden’s belt.

“We’re in here,” the guard shouted back.

How that would in any way provide Nate with information who ‘we’ were, Aiden had no idea. Nor why this person was so keen on keeping up appearances in front of Nate. He had just threatened to shoot the man, yet this stranger had done all he could to hide any evidence of the incident ever happening.

The guard took a step back from Aiden, allowing line of sight to the entrance as both Nate and Hancock entered the tower through the doorway.

Once Nate came into view, his eyebrow raised to his hairline while his gaze flicking between Aiden and the caravaneer. “Didn’t think you two would find each other’s company tolerable while we were gone,” Nate provided as a way of greeting.

The guard just shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, you know that first impressions never last. Me and Aiden here? Thick as thieves. Right Aiden?”

Aiden felt a bit shell-shocked, though realised that he had to provide some input in order not to raise suspicion.

“Ehm,” he answered intelligently, though that reply was not overly convincing if he judged Nate’s expression correctly.

“Right,” Nate answered. “Well, in anycase, you ready to head out Aiden?”

Aiden nodded, still a bit shook up.

The guard gave him a cheeky grin before slapping him on the shoulder, causing Aiden to flinch away.

“That’s the spirit. Now off you go, you little Odysseus. Make new stories, but don’t forget to write home. Oh, and we’ll have do that drink sometime. You’ll know where to find me.”

Aiden did not deem the comment worthy a response, choosing instead to glare at the other as he walked past the guard, trying his best to avoid contact.

“Safe wandering!” the guard shouted in an upbeat tone, deceivingly ignorant of Aiden’s irritation.

Aiden walked out of the tower without even a furtive glance back, gratefully following the lead of the Vaultie.

“You alright there?” Hancock asked Aiden as he kept walking stiffly in the direction Nate was headed.

“Never better,” Aiden answered without looking in the Ghouls direction.

As Nate walked towards the exit, Aiden tried to once again locate the caravanner who had unknowingly started this whole mess, though without any luck. Few of the traveling merchants choose to stay for long at the trading hub, and most left as soon as they had refilled their water skins and whatever errand that they had. It quickly became apparent that neither the man himself nor his fellow travelers were there any longer: he had missed his chance. Perhaps the only one he would get to solve the mystery with his brother’s lookalike.

Sighing in disappointment, Aiden hurried his steps in order to catch up with Nate and Hancock.

Once on their way towards their next destination, Hancock turned his attention back to Aiden. “What was that all about?”

“What was _what_ all about?” Aiden responded, and had until then secretly hoped to avoid talking about anything at all until he had sorted out what actually had happened between the time Hancock and the vault-dweller had left Bunker hill, and when they picked him up.

“You and Deacon. Getting all crummy. Last time I checked you wanted nothing else than to pummel the guy. Somethin’ changed?”

Aiden made a complete stop staring off into space as apprehension dawned for him.

_The mother-fucking excuse for a human being. That explains one part of the conversation, but how the fuck did he know about Josh?_

“You didn’t recognise him?” Hancock asked when Aiden had yet to reply to the spoken question.

Aiden realised it was too late to back out now, or make up some story to explain his reaction.

“No, not really,” Aiden answered and for the first time since leaving the tower, glanced back towards the settlement. Sure, he _had_ wanted to shoot the guy that he recently just met in Goodneighbor, though not for the same reasons. Though he had thought the other familiar, he had been unable to place from where he had recognised him. “I just thought he was some weird-ass caravan guard.”

Nate apparently thought the description funny enough to merit a snort. “That’s Deacon alright. Come on, I want to make it to County Crossing before nightfall. And Aiden?”

“Yeah?” he answered.

“You only shoot at what I point at, and you only point your gun in the direction I tell you to, got it?”

Wanting to suppress his initial reaction, Aiden could not silence the almost audial gulp. Because it was not like he had recently done the direct opposite of what the Vaultie had just asked him to do.

“Sure, yeah, got it. No problem. Noooo problem…”

 


	30. Chapter 30

“You sure you’re alright there, Aiden? You look a bit pale,” Hancock commented once they had made some headway towards their next destination.

“I’m fine,” Aiden answered with as much determination he could muster, though realised how non-convincingly it must have sounded to the all too perceptive Ghoul.

“Really?” Hancock commented with heavy skepticism, confirming Aiden’s assumption. “You could have fooled me.”

Aiden ignored the comment, looking anywhere else than the mayor. And it was not as if he could answer the question even if he tried. Whatever stunt that Deacon had pulled back in Bunker Hill, Aiden was left in the dark in regards to his rationale.

Looking back on the incident in question, even if the caravaner Aiden had tried to approach actually had been his brother, a late reunion between them might not have lead to anything other than broken hearts and misery. Seven years was a lot of time between them, excluding all the ways those years had marred Aiden and all but broken his moral compass. But something Deacon had said caught his attention.

_ “He isn’t my brother as I would’ve remember him”? The hell does that even mean? _

Pondering over the answer to that question, Aiden kept quiet. The trip north from Bunker Hill was somewhat uneventful, disregarding a couple of mongrels that were easy enough to dispatch with his attention elsewhere. Hancock tried several times to get Aiden to open up, but he lacked the will to accommodate the mayor. Finally giving up after having tried more times than Aiden cared to count, Hancock let him stew on his own, choosing to converse with the always talkative vault-dweller than to force Aiden into a conversation he obviously did not care for.

It took another couple of hours for them to reach County Crossing; the closest settlement north of Bunker Hill. Aiden himself had not been back there for a couple of years, and definitely not since he last switched suite. Back then, the settlement had consisted of a small shed and a decrepit mutfruit farm. Easy pickings, is what his old boss would have liked to called it. Looking at the settlement now, Aiden might have had a couple of other characteristics for it, though ‘easy pickings’ was not one of them.

“Shit,” Aiden breathlessly stated, which was all he could get out after seeing the fortified settlement.

And being fortified was the least he could say about the small town that had risen from the previous shell of a settlement. Walls had been erected around the perimeter, ones that were definitely not present during his last tour of the place, complemented with watchtowers and an intimidating looking gate. Aiden could understand why the minutemen chose to upgrade the defenses of this particular farm. The place was strategically located in the middle of the northern parts of the commonwealth, close to bunker hill as well as a handful of other settlements. While the soil might not be as fertile as other places, it was probably enough to keep them going.

A woman with a laser rifle and a militia tricorn stood on a raised platform next to the gate, currently in charge of screening any visitors.

“General,” the female greeted them while touching the brim her hat, before gesturing to someone on the inside to open the gates.

“Who?” Aiden asked, turning to the vault-dweller.

“I’ll tell you over dinner,” Nate answered and went inside when the gates opened enough to allow them access.

Inside the walls, a small community was thriving. It was obvious that the current main role of the settlement was still to provide food, but the community also maintained a small storefront at the opposite side of the camp, and a handful of guards walked around the place, rotating between observing the surrounding area, and walking around the perimeter.

“What, the actual, fuck,” Aiden commented, openly gaping at what he was seeing.

“Sole’s been busy,” Hancock observed.

“I don’ think ‘busy’ really covers it. This is a fuckin’ fortress,” Aiden said, still trying to recall what it used to look like when he last had  _ visited _ the place. While Aiden was busy staring at the newly erected fortification, the vault-dweller conversed with the local populace.

“What’s the verdict,” Hancock asked when Nate returned.

“They are one bed short of accommodating the three of us.”

“Oh,” Aiden responded, drawing his attention away from the erected structures. “Well, just toss me a blanket or somethin’ and I’ll make due with the floor somewhere. No big deal.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hancock quickly rebuked.

Aiden frowned, unsure what caused Hancock to so vehemently disagree. “‘s nothing I haven’t done before,” he countered, crossing his arms.

Nate observed the exchange curiously. “Well, if you prefer to sleep on the floor, then by all means. We’ll provide somewhere warm and dry for you to cot.”

_ ‘Prefer’? That makes it sound like I have a choice. _

“What’s the alternative?” Aiden asked.

“What’d ya think, knucklehead,” Hancock commented.

The vault-dweller just shrugged his shoulders before throwing an off-hand comment about letting them work it out, walking back to the settlers to do whatever he usually did when dropping in for a visit.

“I get it that I wasn’t invited, so it’s fine,” Aiden continued once Nate was out of earshot, trying to explain that it was no sacrifice for his part to pass up on the opportunity to sleep on a bed for a night or two.

“You ain’t sleeping on the floor,” Hancock responded with finality. 

“Well,” Aiden began, frowning and unsure why Hancock was making such a deal out of a negligible issue. “I’m not throwing you out of a bed.”

Scoffing, Hancock mirrored Aiden's stance. “Ignoring the fact that I don’t need to sleep as much as you, I didn’t see you complaining about sharing just a few days ago.”

_ Oh. Ohhhh. _

“Oh,” Aiden repeated out loud. Hancock just responded with a snort.

“Yeah, ‘oh’. The bed’s yours in any case. I can forgo sleep for a couple of days. So if you don’t like the idea of spooning...”

“It’s fine. Good. Great even. I mean,” Aiden took a breath when he realised he was rambling. “I wouldn’t mind, ‘s all.”

“Good,” Hancock answered, giving Aiden a pleased smile. “So, let’s take stock of where we’ll stretch out, and you can unpack whatever you thought to bring. And what’s with the backpack?”

“This?” Aiden said, pulling on one of the shoulder straps. “I borrowed it from Daisy.”

“Daisy’s in on your little escapade?” Hancock asked incredulously.

“Ehmm,” Aiden hesitated, opening and closing his mouth as various explanations were invented and then quickly rejected.

Hancock allowed Aiden a couple of seconds indecision before he decidedly had had enough. “If you’re gonna make a play at innocence, don’t act so damn guilty,” he said, though did not appear overly upset. “Not that it matters. Come on, we have a bed to  _ investigate _ .”

“You said that as if you meant ‘inaugurate’,” Aiden commented, following closely behind the older male.

“Maybe I did.”

Aiden felt the blush creep up on his cheeks, throwing a worried glance around them to see if someone else had overheard the mayor. “Oh, come on,” he complained to the accompaniment of Hancock’s laughter.

The room they were meant to share, although small, was decorated and fully furnished. Besides a bed, the small bedroom contained a dinner table for two, a dresser, as well as a wide assortment of knick-knacks and other items for display. It was cozy but lacked the lived-in feeling of someone’s quarters, giving Aiden the impression that its main purpose was to accommodate overnight guests rather than to house a permanent tenant. Before their arrival, one of the settlers had even gone through the effort of lighting all of the candles and lanterns in the small space, their warm light washing the room in hues of yellow, red and gold.

“Not bad,” Aiden commented as he walked in, throwing his backpack in the corner and leaving Hancock to close the door behind him. “I could get used to this.”

“Is that your way of saying that you’re dissatisfied with your quarters in the State House?”

“It’s my way of saying ‘I like it’, and ‘don’t be a dick,” Aiden countered, continuing to explore the room by pulling out the drawers of dresser one by one. “Hey, it even comes with its own bar,” Aiden said, lifting up a full bottle of bourbon to display it to the mayor.

During Aiden’s inventory, Hancock had made his way over to the bed and was in the middle of making himself comfortable when Aiden threw a glance in his direction.

“Wouldn’t you know, they do now how to live,” the mayor replied from his position on the bed. “So, sleepy yet?”

Humming humorously, Aiden was busy reading the weathered label on the bottle as he answered. “Do I need to pull out my Hancock-to-English dictionary, or am I fluent enough to translate that to ‘are you horny’?”

Hancock just snorted. “The only dictionary needed here is a guide to decrypt your bullshit. And to clarify: while you slept like a baby last night, I didn’t. So if you feel like taking a nap, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Sorry, old man. Didn’ know grandad needed his afternoon nap,” Aiden commented snidely while reshelving the bottle, his back turned to the bed.

“Say that to my face when I’m not tired, and I’ll spank your ass red, kid.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Aiden responded, not feeling particularly threatened by the drowsy Ghoul. “No, I’m not tired. Want me to leave so you can snooze?”

Hancock shrugged his shoulders and slid his tricorn down to cover his eyes.

“Nah, up to you. As long as you’re quiet I don’t mind.”

The ex-raider could not help but to chortle. “Yeah, that sounds like me. ‘Quiet Aiden - always the silent one’.”

“Silly me,” Hancock grunted under the edge of his hat. “Fine. Get out then, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“So, do basically anything I want?”

“Just as long as you don’t get yourself into trouble.”

“Sweet dreams, gramps,” Aiden said, quickly escaping out of reach of the tired mayor.

“Fuck you, Aiden.”

Aiden was still snickering when he closed the door behind him, leaving Hancock to rest.

Walking back out, Aiden soon spotted Nate by a workbench in the corner of the settlement, in the middle of constructing… something; a strange machine the younger man for the life of him could not figure out the use for.

“What’s that supposed to be?” he asked the Vaultie as he got closer to his workshop.

Nate threw a quick glance at Aiden before returning his focus to whatever he was crafting.

“A turret,” he answered, turning the contraption upside-down in order to better reach with his screwdriver.

“Doesn’t look like any turret I’ve seen,” Aiden commented trying and failing to see how that pile of steel and plastic could amount to anything useful.

“It’s a laser turret.”

“Really?” Aiden gave voice to his skepticism, comparing the Vaultie’s creation with the sphere-like objects he had seen (and adamantly avoided) in the old ruins of Boston. No matter how Aiden turned his head, nothing about the construct resembled those deadly machines.

Nate nodded. “It’s an advanced version of an earlier model I tried. Should pack more of a punch.”

The vault-dweller turned the whole thing over, and Aiden quickly got the picture of how it was supposed to work.

“Oh, wow. I wouldn’t wanna tussle with that thing,” he expressed sincerely after seeing the the diameter of the laser-barrel.

“That’s the goal. Now, was there anything in particular you wanted, Aiden?”

Aiden shrugged his shoulders. “Nah. The mayor’s snoozing, and I’m just staying out of his way. Sooo, what does this do?” Aiden said, pointing at another object laid out on the table.

“It’s a biometric scanner,” Nate answered, and continued his explanation when he noticed Aiden’s confused expression. “Based on an input array of biological entries, it’ll determine whether it should or shouldn’t target an individual that is within range.”

Aiden gulped.

“What if it misfires?”

“It’s a scanner, it doesn’t actually shoot anything. But you’re wondering if it could target a non-target entity? It can’t.”

Despite the vault-dwellers reassurance, Aiden was still not entirely assured. “I know that you have confidence in your own creations, but I’m less convinced of the performance accuracy of technology that’s been around for more than 200 years.” 

“Don’t be paranoid,” Nate chided.

Grumbling, the ex-raider refuted the claim. “It’s not paranoia if it keeps you alive.”

“You’re in no danger, so that’s not what this is about. You’re scared that it will shoot you based on your previous history as a Raider, right?”

Aiden could not deny the accusation, though he did not feel like acknowledging how the Vaultie had just managed to pinpoint the issue with frightening accuracy. Humming undecidedly, Aiden tried to play off how uneasy that made him feel. “Maybe something to that effect.”

Nate put down his tools, leaning his hip on the bench and turned his entire attention towards Aiden. “Look. Biological entries have nothing to do with your history as a bandit. This here,” he said, tapping his knuckles against the chassi of the scanner. “Is not a judgemental apparatus that decides your worth as a human being. It does not carefully evaluate your past and future actions and then fire accordingly. What it does,” Nate said, lifting the component off the table. “Is that it scans  _ who you are _ and then compares that to its database of whitelisted profiles. If you aren’t on the list, it will try to make assumptions in regards to your _ current intentions _ by checking your levels of adrenaline, cortisol, and other neurotransmitters. Meaning, if you run for your life towards the settlement to escape a pack of mongrels, it won’t fire at you. But if you run across the field, jacked up on psycho and roaring for a fight? There’s gonna be a lot of ‘pew pew’ flying through the air, if you catch my drift.”

Aiden was still not completely convinced, which the vault-dweller quickly picked up on.

“I get it that you’re a bit divided. That’s natural seeing where you’re coming from. But that particular feeling you’re currently having?” Nate said, pointing to Aiden’s chest. “That feeling is giving off a certain mix of chemicals in your body, and that particular mix won’t trigger the lasers. And if that still doesn’t convince you,” he continued as he pushed a few buttons on his pip boy, which was connected to the scanner through a long thin cable. “You’re now whitelisted. Just as anyone else I travel with.”

It surprised Aiden that the vault-dweller was so certain that the ex-raider would not turn on him, enough so that he would list Aiden as a ‘trusted’ entity. Not that he had any plans to betray that trust, but it still baffled him. Mostly since he was unsure if he would have returned the favour had the roles been reversed.

“Thanks,” Aiden mumbled, a bit taken aback.

The vault-dweller gave him a smile in return.

“Now that you’re no longer afraid of getting shot, you feel like helping me out?”

Aiden made a noncommittal gesture. “What you need help with?”

“Well, in my experience, it’s always easier to build with a couple of extra hands.”

Which was how Aiden found himself learning the basics of how to build a laser turret, guided by the experienced hands of the vault-dweller.

Aiden was sitting on the floor next to the vault-dweller, assembling his third periscope leg when Hancock dropped by.

“Well, aren’t you diligent,” Hancock commented upon seeing Aiden working.

“Unlike someone else I know,” Aiden countered without looking up from the steel construct he tried to screw together.

“Don’t be an ass,” Hancock replied, while moving to stand next to the vault-dweller.

“I have all these other body parts, so why’d I limit myself to  _ just an ass _ ?”

“‘cause you’re a frustrating little shit when you want to be,” Hancock bit back.

Aiden huffed, still not lifting his gaze from his handiwork. “Wow, don’ you sound cranky. Sure you don’ need to nap some more, old man?”

Aiden felt himself being pulled up by the collar of his shirt, and quickly found himself face-to-face with a surprisingly pissed Ghoul.

Hancock glanced in Nate’s direction before addressing him.

“You didn’ need this one for anything important, did ya?” Hancock asked.

Nate shook his head. While appearing unaffected by the Ghoul’s threatening tone, he was obviously not interested in ending up on the receiving end of the mayor’s ire. Or perhaps merely trying to avoid ending up in the middle. “I can handle the rest just fine. Thank you for your assistance, Aiden.”

Before Aiden had the chance to respond, Hancock had lifted Aiden over his shoulder, giving Aiden the chance to call out ‘traitor’ to Nate before being carried off.

As they arrived in their shared quarters, Aiden was thrown down on the bed.

“What gives? I was just messing with you,” Aiden commented, trying get his bearings back.

“Just thought we’d take the time to chat a bit,” Hancock said, no trace of the earlier anger he displayed in front of Nate, popping a couple of mentats before returning his attention towards Aiden.

Aiden was sure his eyes must have popped out of his head. “What. The ever loving. Fuck. So you complain about me not askin’ for permission, while you can just fucking lug me half across the settlement? The hell is your problem?”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Just figured it was the fastest way for us to get some privacy. So, mind telling me what happened in Bunker Hill while Sole was off exploring?”

_ No, no, no, nope, nuh-uh, not likely, and definitely not now. Preferably not ever. _

“Hey, you hear that? I think it’s Nate calling for help. I better just --”

Ignoring Aiden’s half-hearted attempt at a diversion, Hancock continued. “This isn’t an interrogation, Aiden. You looked a lot worse for wear when we came back, and I don’t like the thought of you hurtin’ while carryin’ on like nothing’s wrong. Just,” Hancock sighed. “Just, talk to me.”

Aiden averted his eyes, feeling guilty for wanting to avoid this very conversation.

“I don’t,” he started, though had no clue as to how he should continue. Hancock did not try to push him, though pulled up old plastic chair next to the bed when Aiden had not added anything for some time.

“I mean, look,” Aiden tried again. “I don’t like talking about shit I can’t put into words. I don’t know what actually happened in Bunker Hill. One minute I thought I saw --”  _ my brother. My last living relative and family member, previously presumed dead. Whom I’m not actually sure is still not dead. _ “ -- someone I knew. The next thing that happened was that Deacon dragged me into the broken tower and gave me a spiel about not making mistakes. I’ve no idea what fucking spurred that on, only that the guy I was following was long gone by the time we left.”

Aiden tried to gauge Hancock’s mood, though he seemed to be especially good at hiding it when he wanted to.

“And he didn’t tell you anything else?” Hancock asked, looking at Aiden as if he was trying to hide something.

“Deacon? No, not a thing. Fucking clam. He’s like a fuckin’ rock, even when --” Aiden silenced himself when he realised he was a handful of words away from admitting to having been openly hostile towards Deacon.

“When, what?” Hancock asked, perking up as a response to Aiden’s odd behaviour.

“Nothing,” Aiden said as he buried his head in his hands. “Doesn’t matter now.” 

He felt Hancock place a hand on his shoulder, causing him to lift his eyes to that of the Ghoul’s, meeting his stern expression. The look made the ex-raider question if the hand on the shoulder was meant to be an action of support, or that of a threat.

“Tell me,” the Ghoul asked with a severe tone, making it clear that the action was closer to the latter than the former.

This was the kind of situation that Aiden felt could very well end up with him being thrown out to the ruins. All it would take was a carelessly chosen word, or either of them losing their temper. And whilst Hancock seemed to be on the way there, Aiden had more to lose if he were to follow.

“I fucked up,” Aiden whispered, again hiding his face from Hancock, or rather avoiding having to watch Hancock’s expression. “It’s possible that I might’ve held him at gunpoint.”

“You  _ might _ have? The hell does that mean? You threatened to shoot him?” Hancock said, getting up from his chair with incredulous speed. “The hell, Aiden!”

The ex-raider stood up with him, not wanting to be at a height disadvantage. “I didn’ kno’ who he was!” he defended himself. “The guy fucking abducted me! ‘s not like he gave me his papers.”

Hancock looked divided. It was obvious he did not appreciate that Aiden had threatened Deacon; the Drifter slash Caravan Guard slash  _ who knew what else _ . Though hopefully, he would understand that the situation was not orchestrated by him. 

“Shit, Aiden,” Hancock commented after a while. “Can’t fuckin’ leave you anywhere without you causing trouble.”

“Oh come on, that’s uncalled for,” Aiden complained. “‘s not like I asked to be kidnapped.”

With a despondent expression, Hancock replied. “No, and yet, shit like that seems to happen surprisingly frequently around you.”

Petulantly, Aiden crossed his arms. While he probably could have handled the run-in with the drifter better, it was not as if he had walked into the encounter on his own in free will, and definitely not with the intent of causing harm to the other.

While Aiden could have handled Hancock’s reaction and his condemning attitude on any other day, in the current circumstance, tired and wrung out after the emotional rollercoaster of an afternoon, having traveled for the bigger part of the day, and after having spent a night sleeping in a staircase, the last thing he wanted was to have a poor decision thrown back in his face.

For a moment, Aiden considered to loudly object to Hancock’s accusation. But all it took was for him to open his mouth to decided he would rather avoid starting a quarrel over something that could not be changed, about a situation in which he had absolutely no moral high ground. “Whatever,” he said, turning away to walk out.

“We’re not done here,” Hancock growled in response.

Aiden stopped in his tracks. Though he was tempted to just keep on walking and throwing the door in the older man’s face on his way out, he did not. No matter how much he wanted to lay down and rest, his voice of reason still won out. “Know what,” Aiden began. “I’ve had a shit day. You wanna scream in my face, then I’d rather be anywhere else.”

“If you hadn’t threatened to kill someone, we wouldn’t need to have this conversation.”

Sure, Aiden could understand why Hancock thought it necessary to argue the point. He knew that he had done wrong, not doubt about it. But this was taking it too far. Nobody was dead, and nobody was hurt. Hancock was blowing the incident out of proportion, which pissed Aiden off to no end. “This isn’t a conversation. You just want me to sit here and listen to you while you chew me out.”

“I just want to make it very clear that I won’t make light of you walkin’ around threatening people.”

The impulse to pull his hair was difficult to ignore, but Aiden made a valiant effort. “You think I don’t  _ fucking _ know that?”

“Well do you?” Hancock asked, cutting the distance between them with a handful of steps. “‘Cause from where I’m standing, it feels like I need to continue to beat that into your head until it sticks.”

Scoffing incredulously, Aiden could not help the snide response that escaped. “Yeah, that’s fucking great. Something happens and you immediately turn against me, like whatever happens is  _ always _ my fault.”

Hancock raised one eyebrow. “You pointed a gun at someone. You sayin’ that ain’t your fault?”

“You think I did it for fun? Why the fuck am I even trying to explain this. You just want to pin everything bad that happens on me and the fact that I was raised a Raider. Like I’m to blame for everything wrong in the ‘wealth.”

“You know that’s not true,” Hancock deadpanned.

“Really?” Aiden replied unbelievingly, feeling his last tentative grasp on his temper slip. “To me it seems like you just want me to stand here and listen as you complain about whatever crawled up your ass and died!”

The outburst was met with nothing but silence from the mayor. “You done?”

Aiden sighed, despondent. “Whatever. Like you’d care if --”

A hand was quickly slapped over his mouth, and before Aiden had a chance to react with indignity, he was pushed harshly to the wall and pinned.

“You’ve had your chance to run your mouth,” Hancock rumbled, his face up in Aiden’s. Had the Ghoul possessed a nose, it would have been tightly pressed against the ex-raiders. “Now I want you to listen real carefully to what I’m about to say. I’m not gonna accept you acting like an outlaw in Goodneighbor, or anywhere else in the Commonwealth. You ride with me, you bury that shit real deep. That means you won’t raise that gun towards innocents --”

Aiden just rolled his eyes.

_ As if Deacon would count as an ‘innocent’. _

“ -- or anyone else that don’t deserve it. Next time I hear of you having done anything that I don’t like the sound of, there’ll be consequences. You hear me?” Hancock finished lifting his hand from the younger man’s mouth to allow him to speak.

Aiden looked the other way in spite, but was rapidly taught that was not the right way to acknowledge the mayor, by having had his back pushed harder into the wooden boards behind him.

“I asked you a question,” Hancock growled.

Infuriated by Hancock’s low opinion expressed in regards to him, Aiden was loath to dignify him with an answer. It was not until Hancock made it clear he would not accept any more silence from the ex-raider, that Aiden decided to answer. “Don’t act like I’m a loose gun. You know I won’t.”

“I thought I did,” Hancock replied, backing away from Aiden to give him some much needed space. “But then you went and proved me wrong on more than one account.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Aiden scoffed. “It’s nice to know where we stand; me, at the edge, ready for you to kick me right down.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” the Ghoul chided. “I just don’t want to have to look over my back --”

“Seriously?” Aiden interrupted. It was insulting to hear how little Hancock trusted him, especially after everything Aiden had done to change himself for the sake of staying with the mayor in Goodneighbor. “You really think I’d hurt you?” he asked, incredulous.

“It’s not what I’m saying,” Hancock denied. “But I don’t want to have to do damage control if you can’t keep your gun holstered when needed.”

Aiden crossed his arms as he glanced away.

“We good?” Hancock asked.

_ Not even remotely. _

“I hear you,” Aiden responded to the unspoken question.

“Then I won’t have to have this conversation with you again,” Hancock said, clearly expecting Aiden to give him a clear affirmative.

_ You didn’t need to have it in the first place. _

“Whatever,” Aiden replied, more than a little upset over being on the receiving end of Hancock’s tongue lashing.

“That’s not an answer,” the Ghoul pointed out.

Aiden was about to counter when a resolute knock was heard on the door.

“Yeah?” Hancock asked.

“Dinner,” was the spoken answer on the other side before the messenger walked away.

Hancock looked to Aiden, who just shrugged.

“We’re not done here,” Hancock clarified, obviously not satisfied with Aiden’s non-committal answer from earlier, but still prepared to bury the hatchet until after dinner.

“I heard you,” Aiden replied, following the Ghoul’s lead.

Hancock held the door open, indicating for Aiden to walk out first, an action to which Aiden just rolled his eyes as he walked out.

“Such a gentleman,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Not making your case any stronger,” Hancock commented, closing the door behind him.

_ Wasn’t even trying... _


	31. Chapter 31

It took the bigger part of the evening, and some early hours of the morning for Hancock and Aiden to reach a fragile truce. While Aiden still felt unjustly accused, and Hancock expressed being less than convinced that ex-raider had actually understood what was the heart of the matter, they managed to come to an agreement to move forward. It was an uneasy concession, but a solution nonetheless.

The little sleep Aiden managed to nab in between the official end of their argument and the point when Nate had decided it was time to get up and leave, was interrupted by nightmares where he once more found himself as a Raider, though with the added bonus of feeling Hancock’s resentment over his shoulder, constantly judging him for every decision he had ever made. Waking up, Aiden was starting to question whether he had gotten any sleep at all. To say the least, he was not in the best of moods. So when their departure was delayed due to no fault of their own, Aiden felt like punching something.

Besides bossing around soldiers and building turrets, Aiden learnt that one of many responsibilities of being the general of the Minutemen included having to listen to squabbling settlers as they tried their best to not agree on any anything, besides the fact they could not come to an unanimous decision. The ex-raider stood leaned against the barricade by the gate, watching events unfold, slowly shaking his head at the stupidity displayed by the settlers.

Hancock had headed out earlier, stating he had some business back at Bunker Hill, but would meet up with them later. Aiden and the Vaultie had been on their way out when they, or rather Nate, had been accosted by two settlers, one not even currently residing at County Crossings.

“What about us, then?” the other settler, a disagreeable man with more white streaks in his hair than dark, argued. “We get at least as many attacks as this place, so why don't we get barricades and turrets?”

The whole debate had started when a provisioner had arrived and noticed the new installments the Vaultie had been working on since yesterday. As it usually goes, one thing led to another and suddenly the head of the next settlement over showed up and promptly demanded that Nate mosey his way on over in order to improve their defenses.

“Isn't it enough to have a group of people ready to defend your settlement should something happen?” the other settler, the man in charge of County Crossing, reasoned.

The older settler just scoffed. “Easy for you to say when having _these_ walls protecting you. Nothing will get close to this place, while we have to protect our crops with our _lives_!”

“I understand that it might seem unfair,” Nate began. “But this settlement has the capacity to provide shelter for you and your family as well should it be needed. Adding more protection just increases the number of attacks.”

“We won't make it here if they attack!”

The Vaultie tried to be the voice of reason, but handling less than reasonable people usually, in Aiden's experience needed another type approach.

“For crying out loud!” Aiden exclaimed after feeling his own patience run out. “Will you fucking shut up and just listen to the Vaultie?”

Both of the arguing parties turned to look incredulously at the young male, who had no problem with being the center of attention if it helped to cut the debate short. Vaultie and him had a time to keep in order to avoid ending up having to walk part of the distance to the next settlement in complete darkness. Something made much more difficult by having to listen to petty men with their petty problems.

“And who’re you?” the older settler asked, giving Aiden a dirty look.

“I'm the guy that has no problem with punching the living daylights out of you in order to make you shut up. So why don't cha just make do with what you got and stop your _fucking_ whining!”

That at least that got them quiet, though the guy from the other settlement did not stop staring.

“You,” he began, appearing even more livid than before. “You’re one of them, aren’t ya? One of them Raiders?”

Aiden took the comment as a poor attempt at an insult. “What? Just ‘cause I'm shouting, that would automatically make me a Raider?”

The man just kept staring. “No, no, I recognise you. You and your bloody gang of rapists and murderers, you stole our entire yield last winter. We had to beg for scraps in order to survive!”

While the story was not entirely implausible, Aiden rarely moved around outside without his sack-hood. If this guy claimed to recognise him, he was probably in the wrong.

“Think you got me confused with someone else,” Aiden easily rejected the idea.

“No,” the farmer denied. “I'd never forget that face. You fucking spit on my wife, before you threatened to slit her throat!”

Vague recognition, but the event was still not unique enough for Aiden to connect the dots.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Aiden stated unimpressed.

“Oh yeah? Well I remember you plenty well. Especially since you murdered my brother!”

Aiden was about to counter with something nonchalant when the other settler cut in. “Since when did the Minutemen employ Raiders?” his question directed to the General.

The ex-raider scoffed. “I’m not a Minuteman.”

“Aiden, let me handle this,” Nate said, when the other settler started shouting.

“Aiden! That was the bastards name! You took our food and left me and my family to starve!”

Something the guy screamed caused Aiden to put the words into context. While the other details could be explained through happenstance, if the settler knew his name, only one incident came to mind.

It had been late January and the School gang was quickly running out of food. Having a couple of failed raids on their back, they had not been able to gather enough to feed them through the winter. While Aiden had been assigned to scavenge the old ruins of Boston, another team had been sent out to gather supplies from the living populace of the Commonwealth. While the mission to grab food from a settlement should have been easy, they had failed miserably. The settlers managed to fight off the oncoming attack, to the great surprise of the rest of the gang. As Aiden had been the loudest to ridicule the group, he was suddenly appointed head of the new assault team, and forced to lead the group back to the settlement, just after getting back from his own (very much successful) scavenge run. Rather than complaining how unfair it was that he pay for the incompetence of the others, Aiden needed only see the way their leader’s eye twitched in order to choose silence rather than objection.

Marching in part-darkness and rain, he was already pissed when he arrived at the settlement, dead tired, and not up for any bull the settlers planned to pull. So when the settlers wife tried to spit him in the face after the battle was over and done with, the rest of the farmers subdued and disarmed, Aiden snapped. Using his gun to knock the older female to the ground, Aiden thrust a glob of saliva in her face, before threatening to make her a whole head shorter should she try something else. While Aiden and a couple of others ensured none of the other farmers got any other bright ideas, the rest of the raiders grabbed anything they could carry, and more than they really needed just to spite the needlessly obstinate settlers.

Considering the raid over and done with, they had turned to leave. Though they did not get far.

“You- you damn thugs! You think you’re so tough, but you’re all just a bunch of cowards!” the older settler, Aiden now recognised, screamed at them in an attempt to stop them.

And stop Aiden it did. Turning back with the intent to shut the other once and for all, one of his buddies tried to reason with him.

“Come on Aiden, it ain’t worth it. Let’s just get out of here.”

With his gun aimed between the eyes of the settler, it took a lot for Aiden to put it down. Though, in a last flit of anger, Aiden shifted his aim to the other’s knee, and put a round in his cap.

“Serves you right, fuckin’ planter,” Aiden spat out to the old man writhing in pain, before leaving with the rest of the gang.

Back at base, Aiden had gone straight to bed (after hanging his clothes to dry) and had been too far gone to hear when one of the settlers had gone in guns blazing, managing to kill two of the raiders before being subdued. Aiden had been told of the settlers actions afterwards, as well as what the rest of the gang had done to him. Putting it mildly, it did not end well for him. Aiden would not want to go that way, to say the least.

Shaking his head from the images of his past, Aiden tried to once more focus on the present. “Well, maybe your brother shouldn't have followed a group of Raiders back to their base. You never know when people's stupidity is immediately rewarded,” Aiden commented derisively.

The fury burning in the settler’s eyes made Aiden realise that he should reconsider antagonising people when he had no interest in following through with the retribution.

Screaming his face red, the settler roared. “You bastard… you fuckin’ bastard! I'll kill you for what you’ve done!” he shouted and threw himself in the direction of Aiden. The man was an arms length away when Vaultie grabbed the man and put himself between the old male and his object of hatred. “Lemme at him! I’ll rip his arms from his sockets!”

“Not unlike how your brother went,” Aiden could not stop himself from commenting, regardless how true or untrue that statement was. The settler screamed in anger and frustration, trying to fight his way free to the ex-raider.

The Vaultie turned to Aiden giving him glare that sent chills down his spine. “Shut up and wait outside.”

Raising his hands in the air in defence, Aiden did as he were told and walked outside to wait for the commotion to die down.

It took three Minutemen and their general to calm the settler down enough to talk sense into him. _No_ , Aiden did not mean what he said. _No_ , he was not a Minuteman, but neither was he a bandit. And _no_ , he was not going to raid the settlement, nor help other Raiders to do the same. _Yes_ , of course Aiden was sorry for upsetting him, but _no_ , he would not say it in person.

Honestly, he could not care less what the settler thought of him, but whispers of the argument had spread across the settlement like wildfire, and caused both settlers and Minutemen alike to eye him warily. His title as ex-raider causing them to be extremely suspicious of him. Not even in Goodneighbor had he been under such scrutiny. Sure, the Watch had looked at him funny at points, but not like he was a rabid animal about to bite their hands off. It was nothing new; Aiden had plenty of experience of being on the receiving end of those stares. But that was some time ago.

Due to the incident, Nate had to stay for even longer, resulting in Hancock waltzing in some time later, wondering why they had not yet left.

Vaultie was in the middle of trying to come up with a solution for the supposed lack in defence of the other settlement, and only headed their way to explain the delay before rushing off again. “Ask Aiden for the details,” he threw over his shoulder when Hancock expressed he wanted to know what was going on.

Hancock turned to Aiden with an inquisitive look, before it turned into a frown.

“Why _that_ look?” Aiden asked, since there was no possibility Hancock could have known what had happened.

“You’re looking defensive, which gives me the idea that you have something to be defensive about,” Hancock said, still looking like he was trying to stare right through Aiden.

The ex-raider crossed his arms, huffing. “Great. Just great. I only need to stand here and you already think I’m guilty.”

“No, you _look_ guilty, which makes me think that ya _feel_ guilty. So spill it,” Hancock said, clearly in a confrontational mood.

“You just want another reason to shout at me. Why should I make it easier for you?”

“So you _did_ do something,” Hancock commented, narrowing his eyes.

“If you’ve already decided that I’m the bad person here, why should I elaborate?”

“What. Happened,” Hancock growled.

“Nothing. _Happened_ ,” Aiden denied.

“Sole definitely seem to think so,” the Ghoul helpfully pointed out.

Scowling, Aiden huffed out a breath. “Vaultie’s just cranky he has to play peace-keeper for old men and their broken ideas of fairness.”

“And how does that relate to you?” Hancock once again asked.

“It doesn’t,” Aiden countered firmly.

When Aiden made no effort to further explain what he meant, Hancock just glared at him. Luckily, Aiden had already been stared at for the bigger part of the afternoon, and while the Ghoul’s scowl was about ten times as potent as any unknown Minuteman, he was still able to ignore it.

After a minute of continuous glaring, Hancock turned away and sighed.

“Fine,” he stated with finality. “I’ll just ask around then.”

Aiden opened his mouth to object, but was interrupted before he had a chance to voice his complaint. “If you’re not willing to talk,” Hancock continued. “Then I’m not gonna force ya.”

“They don’t know what the fuck happened!” the young man argued loudly.

“Neither do I,” the Ghoul reasoned. “And standing here ain’t likely to change that fact.”

Hancock had started to walk when Aiden blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “A settler recognised me from a raid.”

The Ghoul stopped walking, turning to look at Aiden over his shoulder, though still appearing ready to walk off if the ex-raider would not continue being cooperative.

Aiden sighed. “Last winter, we raided this place. A settlement. I lead the attack. We grabbed anything edible, including most of their harvest, leaving barely enough for them to sow. Or eat. Definitely not enough to do both.”

“Bunch of assholes, weren’t ya,” was the mayor’s reply to the short recount Aiden provided.

While Aiden would have agreed with Hancock on most days that Raiders were nothing but assholes, this particular event made him feel a bit defensive. Mostly since he could still recall going to sleep with a growling stomach, and waking up in the morning with pangs of hunger. They were desperate, and they had needed to eat just like anyone else. “Well, people tend to do what is needed when they’re hungry,” he settled with.

An expression passed over Hancock that Aiden could not name, but was quite sure he did not like. “Am I hearing this right? Are you seriously _justifying_ what you did to that settlement?”

It irked Aiden that Hancock once more, almost obstinately refused to see things from his perspective. It was not about justification; what they did was neither just nor right. But in terms of reason, it was one of the more reasonable attacks Aiden had taken part in. While the targeted settlement was more out of convenience, they had needed that food. Desperately so.

“Look, an attack on a settlement is a risk,” Aiden began, and upon seeing Hancock’s no doubt soon to be vehement objection, he continued at a faster pace. “We couldn’t just raid ten of ‘em just to even out the losses for each farm! What the fuck else were we supposed to do?”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Hancock asked disbelievingly. “People make do. You don’t have to resort to stealing to get food on the table.”

Scoffing, Aiden spread out his arms.

“What’re you suggesting? That we’d grow our own crops and get raided by the next gang over?” Aiden huffed. “Not fucking likely.”

“Don’t,” Hancock balked. “Don’t talk like a Raider. You ain’t one anymore.”

“No,” Aiden agreed. “But neither am I going to walk around apologising for all the shit I did when I _was_ a Raider.”

_‘Cause that is a lot of shit._

Aiden’s ledger was both long and bloody, filled with brutality and atrocities committed either by himself or people he had associated with at one time or another. Each line describing a life he had either taken or broken. It was not something he was proud of, or wanted to revisit, much less relive. But neither could he undo it. It was done, and asking forgiveness for his actions would not change that particular fact. Taking the old man outside as an example. Begging pardon would not bring his brother back, nor would it help put food on his family’s table, almost a year after it was needed.

It was apparent that Hancock did not share his opinion, based on the sour look he was aiming at the ex-raider in front of him. “And why the hell not?”

Sure, it was a valid point, but Aiden did not regret having been a Raider. Maybe he should, and Hancock most probably expected him to, but walking around apologising for having existed, sounded like a really boring way to spend the rest of his days.

“Well I thought people wanted sincere apologies. But maybe I got that wrong?” Aiden derided.

It slipped out. Aiden had not meant to say it, and especially not that clearly, but he could not withdraw words already spoken. At first, Hancock appeared stunned by the rather frank admission. When Aiden opened his mouth to actually give an honest apology, the Ghoul just held up his hand.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” the mayor said and walked off without as much as a glance back.

Once alone, Aiden could not help but berate himself for losing his temper. After having just solved their issues, it felt like a huge step backward to once again be at odds with the Ghoul.

Groaning in despair, Aiden could not help but berate himself. “Me and my big fucking mouth. Hancock, wait! Please wait!” he shouted, running after the Ghoul.


	32. Chapter 32

Further on from County Crossing, the vault-dweller led the way up north. Following the old crumbling road, its pavement littered with both pre-war garbage as well as more recently produced trash, going past old billboards and burnt-out car carcasses, they kept a decent pace towards their next destination. Aiden had been informed that they were heading towards an all Ghoul settlement way up north. While Aiden had once frequented these roads a long time ago, he had never been to ‘the Slog’ as it was called by the locals.

Despite the trekk, the ex-raider was thankful to be on the road again after the rather disastrous visit to the last settlement. It was not a pleasant mood that followed the group, but Aiden would rather walk on glass than be left behind. Again. Nate had appeared doubting after Aiden had spouted off to the old farmer, but had afterwards otherwise not commented on the incident. And Hancock… well.

Feeling like a lead weight settled in his stomach, Aiden sighed. They had not really made any amends, and the Ghoul mayor showed more than a little reluctance in letting Aiden tag along for the rest of the trip. He might not have said anything, but each time Aiden caught Hancock staring at him the Ghoul had been the first to break eye-contact, but not before having ladening him with the most disappointed glare Aiden had ever been the unfortunate receiver of. It hurt. And it made him want to punch something to make it stop hurting (as immature as it sounded). Aiden had tried to apologise, but Hancock had just told him to ‘save it for someone who buys it’. No matter how sincere he had tried to make it sound, the response he got was always less than favorable. In the end, he opted to just stay quiet rather than provoke the old man to do something drastic. Like leaving him to rot at the old farm. 

Aiden, although deep in thought, could not help but to take notice of the absence of wildlife otherwise known for these parts. Be that Mongrels, Molerats or Bloatflies, or all of the above, the trip so far had been strangely quiet. While both the Vaultie and Hancock seemed to have picked up on the rather uncharacteristic lack of environmental hazards, Aiden felt he had a pretty good idea why these pests were currently unaccounted for; remembering his own fair share of pest control duty during his days as a practitioning bandit.

“You think this wise?” Aiden asked the vault-dweller as he lead them through a passage one of Aiden’s  _ acquaintances _ had dubbed ‘ambush haven’. Not difficult to see why as the path they travelled was carved into a mountain, essentially providing high-ground on both sides of the road, and with enough cover to hide a small armada. The only two exits from this artificial valley was either back from once they came, or moving forward. If attacked, they would have little option but to fight their way through.

“It’s the quickest way to the Slog,” Nate stated. “I don’t see why we should take the longer route based on hearsay,” he continued, refusing to budge no matter how ill advised Aiden believed the chosen passage to be.

“I think you’re tempting fate,” Aiden continued, walking with his rifle drawn. “Nevermind that you’ve  _ walked here before _ , the moment you choose to let your guard down, or make a bad decision like, I dunno, _ regularly taking this road _ , is the moment things tends to go sideways.”

“You’re paranoid, Aiden,” said Nate.

“And it never occurred to you that I have a  _ reason _ to be paranoid?” Aiden countered.

“That’s what paranoid people say. Because they’re  _ paranoid _ ,” Nate replied, to Aiden’s chagrin.

Realising that there was no reasoning with the vault-dweller, Aiden turned to Hancock. “Can you talk some sense into Mister Shelter over there and explain that the ‘Wealth isn’t a safe place to take a stroll?”

It took one look from Hancock for Aiden to realise he would not be able to convince either of them. “If Sole’s traveled here before,” the Ghoul began. “I’m betting he’s already dispatched whatever used to plague these roads long ago.

Giving up on the two of them, and far from assured, Aiden kept an extra eye out for any movement, fully expecting things to turn sideways sooner rather than later.

Tense and jumpy, Aiden could accurately pin-point the moment the atmosphere changed around them; the stench of gunsmoke and blood almost palpable in the air, making the hair rise at the back of his neck.

“Guys,” Aiden began, before hearing the sound of gravel shifting somewhere behind him. Quickly turning in the direction of the sound, Aiden froze when a hoarse voice rang out from on top of one of the ledges.

“Hold!” the man ordered. “No one  _ fucking _ moves!”

_ Ain’t it fucking grand to be proven right? _

“Fuckin’ told you so,” Aiden whispered under his breath to the Vaultie. Nate merely glared at him before turning his focus to the male currently aiming a rough thrown-together rifle at them. And he was not the only one.

A quick glance around showed Aiden that they were completely surrounded on all sides by at least one gang of Raiders, perhaps more based on the sheer number of barrels that was pointed at them, though none were firing. So far. That could be a good sign, but it did not mean that they were going to walk out of this mess unscathed. At least not with the same amount of gear they were currently carrying. Or possibly the same amount of limbs.

The man that had originally addressed them slid down the side of the hill, walking to stand in front of them them before once again addressing the Vaultie, probably assumed as the leader of the group. “You want to keep breathing, you better hand over all your valuables,” he continued, staring the vault-dweller up and down, probably trying to gauge if the male would try to struggle. The Raider wore a handkerchief over his face and sunglasses to cover his eyes, though a gap in the outfit left a very noticeable scar visible on his forehead, as well as a tattoo inked in his skin of his temple.

_ Wait a minute, I fucking recognise that design! _

Before Aiden had a chance to vocalise his revelation, Nate had already engaged the Raider.

“I really don’t think you want to mess with us,” Nate said, convincingly confident. Had Aiden been the one in front of them, it is possible he might have bought it. The Raider however, also known as Lucky Dylan due to his uncanny luck with cards (so much he felt it necessary to ink in a Four Leaves Clover in his face), did not buy whatever the Vaultie was selling.

“Think I haven’t heard that one before?” he commented, calling the bluff, before moving closer to the Vaultie to try and intimidate him. Dylan was a large man by post-war standards, and while he was taller than the pre-war man in front of him, it was not by much. Though Nate refused to back down, appearing as unaffected by the Raider’s tactics as if they were armed with water pistols rather than pipe-rifles.

Noticing that his scare-tactics were not working, Dylan trigger-finger started twitching, betraying just how little patience he had for this type of situation. Aiden remembered how impatient the older man could get, and still carried the scars of the same altercation.

As it looked like the Raider was about to demonstrate to the Vaultie what Raider’s did to people that refused to follow instruction, Aiden took it as his que to step in. “Hey man,” he said, efficiently diverting the Raider’s attention to himself rather than Nate. “That a new haircut, Lucky D?”

Both Hancock and Nate did a doubletake on Aiden’s sudden familiarity with their current harasser, not unlike Dylan’s own reaction to suddenly having someone call him by his nickname.

The bandit stared at Aiden, probably trying to put the younger man into a context in which he recognised him, when he suddenly snapped his fingers.

“Well I’ll be. Lil’ Aiden? Fuck man,” Dylan said, and grabbed Aiden to envelop him in a bear hug, surprising Aiden with the rather emotional display of affection. “Shit, is this the company you keep these days?” he continued with laughter as he let go of the ex-raider.

“Yeah, well,” Aiden answered noncommittally, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the warm welcome.

“False alarm boys,” Dylan shouted up to the other Raiders, essentially calling off the ambush to the collective groan of the group. “Shut up! You’ll get yours later. Fuck off and don’t get too drunk,” he finished, watching the Raiders disperse before once again addressing Aiden. “So, what’s going on with you? Last me and Skyler heard there’d been a massacre at the Boston public school. We thought the worst.”

“Wow, didn’ think you cared,” Aiden answered truthfully.

“That mouth. Fucking wonder you haven’t been popped. And why wouldn’ we? You were the squad's collective lil’ brother, and I think Skyler saw you as the son she never had, or wanted. She was fuckin’ livid when she got the news. Good to see you’re still kickin’ though,” Lucky ended, throwing a punch into Aiden’s shoulder.

“Tell her I miss her too,” Aiden commented while rubbing his upper arm.

While Dylan had previously been focused on Aiden, he now turned his attention to the other two.

“Sorry, didn’ know you were friends with Black Eye. Passage’s free,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “And take care of him, yeah? Otherwise there’ll be hell to pay.”

“No worries,” Hancock commented, his unease clearly visible, revealing that he was not too keen on being on the receiving end of the classic shovel-talk from a Raider.

Nate and Hancock started to walk past the ambush-point, and Aiden was about follow when Dylan grabbed his shoulder.

“How long have you’ve been buddy-buddy with the mayor of Goodneighbor? And don’ fucking dare pretend that’s someone else,” Lucky spoke in hushed tones.

While Aiden had hoped Dylan would somehow fail to recognise Hancock, he should have known that few things would escape the guy. Especially since Hancock stood out in any crowd he was in. “Well, long story short, found myself ‘in between gigs’ and Goodneighbor just happen’ to be the closest stop. Haven’t overstayed my welcome yet,” Aiden commented, not willing to divulge about the exact nature of the relation between him and Hancock.

The Raider huffed. “Not that you’re not capable of handling yourself, but watch yourself ‘round him. I heard some pretty crazy shit ‘bout a hostile takeover of Goodneighbor a few years back, and I’ll bet my arm he was in the thick of it. Mean with a knife and fucking ruthless. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t gutted you.”

Aiden glanced in the direction of Hancock and Nate. “Noted. Though you don’t need to worry.”

“Can’t help but worry. You attract bad company like seaweed attracts ‘lurks. Hey, if you get lost, you know you can always come back home,” Dylan added.

_ Home.  _ It was a strange concept to think about, but perhaps his initial gang’s hideout could be counted as a  _ home _ . Though, it had been a long time since he had considered it as such. And more recently, there was another place he felt more comfortable hanging his hat than he ever did in the old base. For however long that would last.

Aiden gave Lucky a pained look before again glancing in the direction where Hancock and Nate were walking. Hancock threw a glance over his shoulder, meeting Aiden’s look before turning back.

“Thanks, but no thanks. Don’t think that’s gonna be necessary. But I was serious about you saying hello to Skyler from me.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Take care, and keep yourself alive now. We’ve had enough burials these last few months,” said Dylan, and slapped Aiden in the back of his head, causing Aiden to sooth the pain with his own hand.

“Yeah, yeah. Surviving ’s sorta my thing.”

“Like a fuckin’ roach. Good boy. See ya around, kiddo,” Dylan said, waving him off.

“Yeah, yeah, try not to get shot,” Aiden said, earning a bark of a laugh from the Raider before being told to ‘fuck off’.

Aiden quickly caught up with Nate and Hancock, and once they had left the ambush-point behind them, Aiden could finally relax.

“Don’t you have friends in odd places,” Nate commented, throwing backward glances behind him to ensure they were not followed. It was an unnecessary precaution as it was highly unlikely that Lucky would go back on his word and send anyone after them. Especially after essentially telling them to have a safe journey, or its Raider equivalence.

Aiden scoffed. “Friends? No,” he replied. “Sure, I know some folks around these parts, but calling them friends is pushing it.”

“From where I’m standing, he seemed _pretty_ _friendly_ with you,” Hancock grumbled.

“Sure he’s friendly, ‘til you fill his shoes with Molerat intestines. Then he’s pretty fucking unfriendly for awhile.”

“Don’t act stupid, Aiden. It’s unattractive and I know you’re not that oblivious,” Hancock snapped.

Aiden had to double-check that he was still walking with the same Ghoul as earlier, since his uncharacteristic behaviour made him question what the other’s issue was with his interaction with Lucky. Hancock knew he was a Raider, so how could the fact that Aiden were familiar with people in some parts of the Commonwealth be so inconceivable to him? And to the degree that he got snarky about it? It was not as if he had  _ lovers _ all over the place.

_ Is that it? Is he actually jealous? _

“The fuck, man? I was sixteen when I got out. No-one there as much as twitched an eyelash in my direction. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong is you acting like you’re best buds with highwaymen and then gimme some bullshit that you’ve no idea what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. That’s what’s wrong.”

_ He is. He totally is. _

“Actually, I’ve no fucking clue as to what got your pants in a twist. You’re acting like I went down on my knees in the middle of the road, when all he did was  _ hug _ me.  _ Platonically _ .”

The Ghoul’s grip on his shotgun tightened imperceptibly, and Aiden would have missed it had he not been looking in his direction.

“Is this your way of tellin’ me you wanted to?” the Ghoul asked venomously, his voice an ice-cold copy of that warm purr Aiden was used to hearing. 

It left a bad taste in Aiden’s mouth. “You’re fucking imagining things.”

“Am I?”

“John,” Nate interrupted their argument. “Cool down.”

Hancock clicked his tongue and kept his eyes averted from both of them for the rest of the trip. While the atmosphere between them had not been easy before meeting Lucky, it was even worse afterwards.

It took another thirty minutes of uncomfortable silence to reach the Slog, another heavily protected settlement, Aiden observed. One of the ghouls, Wiseman, came out to meet them, and after introducing himself he began to discuss what manners of help they needed from the vault-dweller during his visit.

Aiden listened with half an ear when he noticed a Ghoul woman approaching. Completely ignoring Aiden, she walked straight up to Hancock and engaged him in a conversation. While Aiden took notice of the exchange he did not react to it, as the encounter shared many similarities with other chance meetings Aiden had been an observer of during his time in Goodneighbor.

It was not until the female grabbed Hancock by his wrist and dragged him further into the settlement that Aiden realised something was up. Just as he was about to follow, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“I could use some help when trying to fix a couple of things around here. You free?” Nate asked.

Aiden tried to follow Hancock and the female with his eyes, but had to quickly abandon that endeavour in order to focus on Nate.

“Umm…” Aiden said, trying to come up with a good excuse, well any excuse, on the fly in order to keep track and/or follow the mayor.

“Great,” Nate responded, quickly crushing that idea in its womb. “Come here, I’ll show you what tools I need you to handle.”

Which was how Aiden found himself on the roof of an old pool house, handing tools to the vault-dweller as he installed a roof-mount for one of their turrets.

“They’re flirting,” Aiden said as he observed Hancock and the Ghoul interact at the outskirts of the settlement. While not actively in cover, it was clear that they had chosen their location with privacy in mind.

“Who?” Nate asked, without looking up from his project.

“Hancock and the short-haired one,” Aiden answered.

Nate paused what he was doing, took one look at Hancock and the female ghoul and then returned to his work.

“Doubtful,” he commented before asking Aiden for a screwdriver.

Aiden pulled a screwdriver from the bag of tools he had been assigned as being responsible for, and handed it to Nate. “Why’s that  _ ‘doubtful’ _ ? They’re obviously too close to have a regular conversation. And Hancock is probably pissed at me for,” Aiden paused, counting at least a handful of things Hancock could potentially be upset about with Aiden. Most recently the meeting with his old Raider outfit. “Stuff,” Aiden finished lamely.

“Much like what you’re doing now, Hancock don’t stop obsessing over you when you’re separated,” Nate said, fastening a screw he had placed earlier when measuring and planning the position of the turret.

Aiden scoffed. “Seeing as he’s  _ conveniently _ forgotten about me, I really don’t buy it.”

_ And he gave me a hard time for being on the receiving end of a hug. Fucking hypocrite. _

Nate did not sigh, though Aiden could imagine he wanted to. “Then walk over there and tell Holly to unhand your boyfriend.”

Whatever comeback Aiden had prepared flew out the window, words completely escaping him. “He -- we, we’re not, I mean. We haven’t, you know, talked about it,” Aiden floundered, feeling the blush spread across his cheeks.

“Aha! So you’re saying that there’s no point in you acting like she’s stealing your prom date, because, he isn’t, in fact, your prom date.”

“My  _ what _ ?”

Now Nate sighed. “Never mind. Point is, have a little faith. Hancock isn’t going to leave you for Holly. So, maybe they have some history together, who knows. And really, who cares. Doesn’t mean anything now. Oh, and hand me the spanner, will you?”

Dutifully, Aiden passed the requested spanner.

Aiden looked on as Holly placed one of her hands on Hancock’s upper arm. Expecting the mayor to shrug it off, Aiden was upset when Hancock had still not removed the offending appendage after some time had passed. It hurt. Badly. 

Thinking back on how Hancock had told him off during their way here, Aiden could not help to feel that this was some sort of payback. Like a nail in the coffin of how easy he could find someone else to share his bed with. Then again, it was not as if he had anything to bring to the table in a relationship. Despite previous assurances, Aiden did not feel like anything other than a crippled Raider; broke, disagreeable, and with too much blood on his hands to ever hope to clean it off. Unfit and perhaps even undeserving of whatever attention the mayor chose to bestow him.

So he forced himself to watch them, in particularly the woman, as she seduced the mayor. Sure, she was a Ghoul, and until recently, Aiden would not have looked twice in her direction. She had her own set of unique features, and while the hair most probably was a wig, she was not an unbecoming woman. Thin waist, sharp hips, and she moved with the confidence of someone who knew what she wanted and was  _ very _ used of getting it.

In the face of this competitor, Aiden had a hard time arguing for his own self-worth. The only thing he had going for him was a smooth set of skin and, well, balls.

“How do I compete against that? She got boobs and everything,” Aiden murmured quietly.

Nate chortled. “Yeah. Boobs. How could I forget,” Nate commented cynically. ”Sorry Aiden, no boobs - no mayor.”

“Oh come on, don’t agree with me on that. And change the fuckin’ radio channel.”

Nate stopped tightening the bolts to give Aiden an inquisitive look. “What’s wrong with classic violin?”

“That’s assuming there’s anything positive to say about it.”

Shaking his head, Nate went back to working on the mount. “My radio, my music. Get your own if you want to listen to something else.”

Grumbling a bit over ‘these damned vault-dwellers’, Aiden glanced back in the direction of Hancock and Holly before coming to a decision. If Hancock wanted to play around, then Aiden could not do much to stop him. He may not like it, but watching them to make sure Hancock did not do anything Aiden did not want to condone, just left him ill. So Aiden focused his attention on the Vaultie’s project, and tried to push Hancock out of his mind, as difficult as that was.

It was late afternoon when the vault-dweller had tightened the screws for the last turret.

“That should do it,” Nate said, wiping the excess grease off on a rag. “Let’s hope it doesn’t just blow off during the next radstorm.”

“And if it does?” Aiden asked as he packed up the tools the Vaultie had used.

Nate sighed. “Then I’ll have to come up with another construction. And probably have to rebuild the entire roof.”

Jumping down off the roof, and while Nate went to report to Wiseman, Aiden immediately tried to locate the mayor. Walking into the pool house, he found the mayor still in the company of the light-haired Ghoul Aiden had quickly learnt to despise.

“Hey you,” Hancock greeted Aiden as he walked into the main room of the building. “Sole done with repairs?”

The ex-raider glanced in the direction of Holly before looking back to Hancock. She sat in an adjacent couch to the sofa Hancock lounged in, smoking. An impressive pile of butts had already accumulated in the ashtray in between them, not mentioning the empty bottles placed on ground adjacent to the table legs.

Aiden shrugged his shoulders. “How should I know? Ask him about it,” he replied less than forthcoming.

Seemingly undaunted by Aiden’s rather curt answer, Hancock reached a hand towards Aiden’s, silently asking him closer. Aiden did not comply.

“Hey, come here. Aiden, this is Holly. Holly, this is Aiden, the one I told ya about.”

“Nice meeting ya, kid,” Holly rasped out. “Aren’t you eye-candy for sore eyes.”

While that type of compliment usually made him uncomfortable, coming from  _ her _ Aiden mostly felt nauseous. “I gotta go,” Aiden said, walking straight past a probably stunned Hancock, and leaving the pool house behind him. If Hancock said anything to try to stop him, Aiden did not hear it.

As tempting as it was to just walk away from the settlement, Aiden was not looking to get himself killed. For now, anything that was not the immediate vicinity of the pool house was good enough a place for him to get away.

The area around the Slog was scenic, more so than most of Boston. Overlooking the settlement, a large construct had been erected before the great war, where a set of stairs allowed access to a two-story high sun deck. The perfect place for someone wanting to better their radiated tan, or for someone wanting to be left alone.

Aiden leaned against the railing on the upper floor, head in his hand, admiring the view while trying to sort out his thoughts. As he heard footsteps as someone was in the middle of climbing the construct, he could only guess that Hancock had chosen to follow him.

“Don’t wanna talk to you,” Aiden said, refusing to acknowledge the man’s presence in any other way.

“Ooookay. Was it something I said?” the Vaultie replied.

Surprised that he had mistaken the identity of the visitor, Aiden turned to see the blue-clad male climb the last couple of steps up to the upper platform where he standing.

“I might’ve expected someone else,” Aiden tried to explained his initial and rather harsh greeting. He was upset with Hancock, not with the Vaultie that had just spent the afternoon listening to him complaining.

“Figured as much. He’s actually the one who sent me.”

The ex-raider scoffed, turning away from the new-arrival. “‘Course he did.”

Staring out the valley, Aiden felt even more melancholic than when he first arrived. Had he actually wanted Hancock to follow him?

“So,” Nate began, resting his elbows on the railing next to Aiden. “Feel like telling  _ me _ what’s up, then?”

“Nope,” Aiden declared, enunciating the word by popping his ‘p’s, explicit in his reluctance to share what was on his mind.

“Okay then. I’ll just enjoy the scenery while you wallow in misery. Your call.”

Realising that the vault-dweller was making good of his statement, Aiden sighed. “Any chance you could pack up and leave me alone?”

“Nope,” Nate replied, using the same intonation as Aiden.

Aiden turned his head in the opposite direction from the vault-dweller, hoping to somehow push the other’s presence from his mind. Which proved to be very difficult, especially when the Vaultie started whistling.

“Do you mind?” Aiden called out when the insistent high pitch noise became too much for him to ignore.

A smug smile creeped up on Nate’s face before he answered, not even bothering to look in Aiden’s direction. “Just enjoying the view. Focus on your brooding.”

“Can’t focus on anything when you’re insisting on annoying me.”

“Less talk, more sulking.”

“I’m not sulking! Hancock’s the one that --” Aiden interrupted himself. “You’re a fucking prick, know that?”

“I try my best. So what’s this about John?”

“You know  _ what _ ,” Aiden said, going back to lean against railing, staring off into the distance.

“And I’m pretty sure I told you not to worry.”

“It’s not -- never mind. You don’t get it.”

“Don’t be such an angsty teen,” Nate said. “Something’s bothering you, and you can claim Holly as the culprit, but I’m not buying it.”

“Oh yeah? But it  _ is _ Holly. If you don’t believe it, it’s your problem.”

“It’s easy to blame someone else for our fears. Tell me what’s actually bothering you, not who your ire is aimed at.”

Aiden sighed, and was about to tell Nate that he could go to bother someone else when he instead got to thinking. “Hancock’s gonna lose interest, isn’t he? Maybe not now but, it’s gonna happen, eventually.”

“Well,“ Nate began, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t known him for that long, but my impression of him is not of someone that’s fluky in their affections. But if you’re worried, you should talk to him about it.”

Ignoring the Vaultie’s suggestion, Aiden continued. “And what happens to me when he does?”

Nate went silent. When Aiden turned to see what had made the other so quiet, he was met with a look of pity. “Don’t do this to yourself, Aiden.”

“Do what?” he asked, the pitying look raising his hackles, causing his hands to clench around the railing in agitation. “Make a contingency plan when this life breaks apart by the seams, like it inevitably will? I’ve got nothing! No skills, no money, no nothing! You guys leave Goodneighbor and I realise that I have nothing to do, no direction, not even a fucking purpose to why I should even stay. Had I stayed, I’d lose my sanity! And yeah, it fucking scares me that I’m so dependent on someone who’s not even the slightest bit dependent on me. At least as a Raider I didn’t need people to like me. And I had a goal.”

“And what was that goal? Is it something you can pursue now, or would it present a conflict of interest?”

Aiden stared off into space.

_ I wanted out... _

“It’s not important anymore,” Aiden answered instead. “Point is, I have no say in what happens in my life, and I’m only living in Goodneighbor on the goodwill of the mayor. And he  _ obviously _ doesn’t need me, which he made it pretty fucking clear when he threatened to kick me out to the ruins. And that probably isn’t the last --”

“Stop, wait, hold up. Go through that with me again. Hancock threatened to  _ kick you out _ of Goodneighbor? When was this?”

“When we got back from Diamond city. Look, it’s not important --”

“Not  _ important _ ? Let’s agree to disagree. I have a few choice words to tell him in regards to that later. But, if your old goal doesn’t work for you, then you need to find a new one.”

_ Oh, yeah, sure, I’ll just pull that one out of the hat. _

“Like what?” Aiden asked dubious.

“You’ll think of something.”

Scoffing, Aiden turned back to watch the setting sun cast the valley in long shadows. “Helpful. Thanks,” Aiden commented sarcastically.

“I know that you’re not particularly interested in hearing my opinion on the matter, but don’t worry too much about what might happen. Take it as it comes. If worst comes to worst, I’ll arrange a place for you to stay, so you don’t need to worry about becoming homeless. My suggestion is that you both need to communicate. Go to Hancock and tell him what you told me.”

“I’ll think about it,” Aiden replied with no inclination of going through with it.

Nate sighed, probably picking up on Aiden’s reluctance. “Just talk to him,” he repeated before straightening up from the railing. “Well, I’ll leave you to ponder. Be ready to head back for dinner.”

“Sure,” Aiden commented, having absolutely no desire to return to the settlement and face Hancock together with his new flavour of the day.

The Vaultie slapped a hand on Aiden’s shoulder, startling him. “Don’t forget that there’s others to talk to beside Hancock.”

Shaking Aiden a bit, Nate left, leaving Aiden to follow the vault-dwellers path back down the sundeck stairs with his sight, before he was once again left in solitude.

Standing by the railing for some more time, thinking on the Vaultie’s words, he still had no definite answer when the sun had set. When the bell that signalled that dinner had been served was heard echoing through the valley, Aiden still had no answer to his conundrum. Sighing in disparity, he took his time as he reluctantly returned to the settlement.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a fluffy little piece before shit hits the fan. (Well, my take on fluff, that is.) I felt they might need this if they aren't to accidentally kill each other down the road... :3
> 
> Happy reads!

“Hey,” Hancock said as he walked into the bunkhouse.

“Hey,” Aiden answered back, without raising his gaze from the book he was reading.

While Aiden was in no mood to talk, he at least expected Hancock to try to carry on the conversation past the initial greeting. Though, after almost a minute of silence, and Hancock was yet to pick up the thread, he started to worry what was going through his head. Even from his peripheral, Aiden could tell Hancock was struggling with something, his normally confident movement merely an indecisive shadow of itself. “Whatcha readin’?” Hancock asked, breaking the silence.

“Whatever fit into my bag,” Aiden replied, turning a page. He tried his best not to frown at the rather uncharacteristic quietness surrounding the mayor. Especially since Aiden had never taken him for someone who preferred small talk.

Hancock sighed, a clear signal that he finally was getting to the point of his presence. “Fine. So Sole and I had a talk --”

“ _Very_ interesting. I’ll make sure to forward that to your secretary,” Aiden interrupted, trying to make it clear that he had no interest in talking to the mayor.

A pin could have been dropped during the small pause that was created in the vacuum of noise. “You really know how to be an absolute pain in the ass when you wish to,” Hancock barked. “Will you let me finish? There’s nothing going on between me and Holly.”

“Does _Holly_ know that?” Aiden asked derisively, not lifting his eyes from the current page he was pretending to read.

“Yeah, pretty sure she does,” Hancock replied scornfully. It was clear that Hancock had not come in there to argue with Aiden, but it was difficult not to fall into their rather harmful dance once they got started. Though Hancock at least appeared as if he wanted to make another attempt to draw the conversation back to safer footing. “I came to apologise for threatening to throw you out of Goodneighbor.”

“Hey, it’s your town. You get to choose whoever’s allowed to visit,” Aiden mockingly conceded, turning another page, not caring how obvious it was that he had stopped reading the moment Hancock entered the building.

Hancock crossed his arms over his chest where he stood, seemingly rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, and I have an open-house policy; everyone’s welcome.”

“As long as you don’t mess with the man in charge.”

“Aiden, cut it,” the mayor scolded, obviously having had enough of Aiden’s willful behaviour. “I want to talk to you, but you’re making that real difficult.”

_You think that’s by accident?_

Despite knowing that he was about to pass a line, Aiden did not relent. “Did you book an appointment? Pretty sure my schedules says ‘busy’ for the next couple of hours.”

“Why are you doing this?” Hancock almost pleaded, and the tone made the teetering grasp Aiden had on his temper to suddenly break.

“Take a wild guess,” Aiden spit out, slamming down the book he had used as an excuse to avoid confronting the Ghoul. “It’s in the middle of the night and you’ve been spending all this time with you _girlfriend_. Then you waltz in, demanding my attention, when you’ve been busy _ignoring me_ for this entire time. So _forgive me_ if I’m not very _amiable_ towards you.”

“Jealousy ain’t a good look on you, Aiden.”

“Fuck you! Jealousy? Really? Can’t possibly be that I’m pissed you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ dick!”

“Unlike the way you've been trying to provoke me since I entered that door, you mean?” Hancock growled back. Sighing, Hancock moved towards him, and Aiden was suddenly hit with the realisation that he had nowhere to escape.

“Take it easy,” Hancock said, sitting down on the foot of the bed. “I’m not gonna go after ya. First, Holly and I ain’t a thing. Secondly, -- don’t scowl at me.”

Aiden huffed before he rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the other’s statement. “Well, _you_ didn’t seem to mind the attention.”

“Holly’s a flirt. She also happened to be one of the Ghoul’s I rescued from Diamond City when that went to shit. So yeah, history. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna jump into bed with the gal.”

Crossing his arms over his chest in a similar way Hancock had just minutes before, Aiden refused to meet the Ghoul’s eyes. He made his disbelief obvious and snorted out ‘yeah right’ before countering. “Like you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been here to shit on your parade.”

“Damn straight I wouldn’t, ‘cause you’d still be waiting for me back home.”

While Hancock sounded sincere, Aiden refused to look back at the man.

“Kid --”

“You just don’t get it. I’m not fucking mad you tried to throw me out.”

“Then why --”

“It’s just,” Aiden sighed. “It’s so fucking easy for you. I make a wrong turn and you’ll have me on my ass outside the wall in no time. But if _you_ treat _me_ like dirt, then I can’t do a single thing about it. It’s,” Aiden paused, trying to think of a word that encompassed the literal hell he had been through this afternoon. “Frustrating.”

“Then don’t worry about it. You’ll always be welcome in Goodneighbor, come and go as you please. No matter our relation.”

Aiden could do nothing but snort at the ridiculousness of that statement. “As if I had somewhere else to go.”

“Seems to me like you have _friends_ all over the place,” Hancock said, obviously trying and failing to keep out the sneer of his voice at the word ‘friend’.

“And you full well know I can’t go back there,” Aiden snapped. Rubbing his face to try to get a semblance of control over his own temper, he was much more quiet when continuing. “Hancock, I have nothing. Don’t you get it? You’re like my single point of stability. And you could at any time pull that away from me. For the first time in my life, I’m fucking terrified of what happens next.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Hancock told him sincerely.

“You already did,” Aiden deadpanned.

“That’s --” Hancock interrupted himself. “It won’t happen again. I’m not a fan of promises, but no matter what happens, I’m not kicking you out. For however long you need.”

_What’s the old saying… promises made in storm are forgotten in calm weather?_

“And what happens when you get tired of me?” Aiden asked pragmatically.

The question made the Ghoul frown. “Why would I?”

Scoffing in anything but humour, Aiden could not help but think the answer was pretty obvious. “I’m not exactly your type, now am I?”

“My _type_?” Hancock repeated.

Aiden shrugged. “Well, I’m a guy,” the ex-raider voiced his concerns from earlier.

“Yeah, Aiden, I noticed,” Hancock jibed.

While the tone was not appreciated, Aiden could understand how the question might have sounded to the mayor. He opened his mouth to counter but closed it again when he realised that the rebuttal would not give him what he wanted. Instead, Aiden tried desperately to put words to the unease that had been curling in his stomach during the afternoon and subsequently the evening. “Aren’t you gonna, you know, miss it?”

“ _It?_ Should I assume you mean _women_? No, why would I?”

Shrugging his shoulders and averting his eyes, Aiden crossed his arms in a feint of disinterest. “I thought that might be closer to your _flavour_?”

Aiden felt the inquisitive stare Hancock aimed at him. “Who told ya that? Did Sole? Or Fahr? MacCready?”

“No, nobody told me,” the insecure male commented. “It’s obvious enough.”

“Really?” Hancock asked incredulously. “I don’t think I remember a single time you’ve seen me with a woman.”

Aiden was about to retort that he could remember at least one quite clearly. Though as he remembered it, he realised that explaining how he, during his early stay in Goodneighbor, had overheard the Mayor entertain one of his female acquaintances, should perhaps not become the topic of conversation. Even a brief recollection of that memory caused Aiden’s cheeks to flush. Especially considering Aiden’s own actions to said event definitely caused heat to flare over his skin.

“No?” Aiden asked, his voice cracking despite trying his best not to let his uncertainty show. “Sure I have. You probably just don’t remember it.” He tried to be vague, hoping that the other would let it go. Though Aiden should know by now that Hancock was not one to abandon a topic that caused him embarrassment.

The mayor, while probably noticing the blush, did not seem to understand the source of his discomfort. “Pretty sure that I would. Mostly ‘cause I’ve been busy trying to lay it on thick and heavy for you. Why would I fool around with someone else?”

It was clear that the conversation would not end anywhere good. “Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. Point is --”

Hancock looked like he suddenly remembered something. “Wait, wait. You’re talkin’ about Joy, arent’ ya?”

Aiden frowned. “Who the fuck is --,” he began, but quickly realised that the question would not support his current goal of leading the talk away from the present thread of conversation. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“Now, when was the last time I saw her...?” Hancock continued to speculate, regardless of Aiden’s attempts to push the discussion in a direction where he felt he had safer footing.

“It’s not important!” Aiden tried to interrupt Hancock’s train of thought, but Hancock was not deterred.

“I don’t think you’d been long in Goodneighbor at that point, and she left soon after. So that must’ve been around...”

Aiden felt like pulling his hair in frustration. “Can we _not_ do this?”

“I’m just figuring out when you could’ve met her, or seen me with her.”

“Who cares! It’s not like I’d recognise her. Can we drop this really, _really_ uncomfortable subject?”

“What ya mean you wouldn’t --” Hancock interrupted himself, before a wide grin spread on his lips. “Oh, now I see.”

_I really don’t like that smile. I really, really don’t like it._

Groaning in mortification, Aiden buried his head in his hands. Though he did not get to hide away for very long. As the bed shifted, he suddenly had the mayor right next to him. Feeling a firm hand take a firm hold of his chin, Aiden’s chin was guided up from it’s previous hiding place to come face-to-face with an obviously pleased Hancock.

Looking the Ghoul in the eyes from such a close position, he was unsure whether to look in the right or left eye, his gaze flickering between the two. “Aiden, did you listen to to me and Joy from your cell?” Hancock asked, his voice purring with self satisfaction.

Aiden’s face flamed. “What you mean ‘ _my cell_ ’?”

With an even lower tone, Hancock rumbled the question closer to Aiden’s ear. “Did you like what you heard?”

“What kind of question is that?” Aiden asked in panic, trying to restore some of the distance in between them, denying how Hancock’s current behaviour was affecting him, or rather his labido.

“Made you all hot under the collar?” he continued sensually, slipping a finger down the inside of his neckline, creeping closer to Aiden despite his efforts to get away.

“I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating,” Aiden commented, realising belatedly how breathless he sounded.

With his most seductive honey smooth voice, and whilst practically leaning over him, Hancock uttered his next question almost against Aiden’s lips. “Did you touch yourself while you were listening to me fuck Joy through the mattress?”

While the thought of Hancock with another woman just minutes earlier had sparked animosity, that particular memory made his stomach clench in arousal. Biting off a moan before it managed to escape, Aiden tried to look away, but the Ghoul immediately turned his head back to face him, continuing his questioning. “Did you come?”

Aiden’s heart was beating way too fast, it felt as if it tried to abandon him through his chest. “I - I - I don’t --”

Moving his lips right against his ear, and in a low baritone Hancock reiterated the question. “Well, did ya?”

His warm breath caused the small hairs on his ears to move, a shiver went straight through him, and Aiden swallowed several times before uttering a very quiet ‘yes’ in admission to Hancock’s continuous accusations.

Hancock backed away, looking like the cat that just got the Brahmin milk, a very pleased smile on his lips. “You surprise me, Aiden. Naughty, _naughty_ boy,” he chided playfully.

Not only had Hancock figured out that Aiden had harbored less than innocent feelings for the mayor most likely for far longer than he had initially surmised, the embarrassment of being called out for the inappropriate behaviour had Aiden’s inside curl in a mixture of shame and discomfiture.

“I didn’t -- I wouldn’t -- It’s not --” he fumbled, trying to find an excuse, any excuse, for his actions. Hancock just smiled wider at the futile attempts.

“I have to be honest, the picture of you jerking off while listening to me is not off-putting, I’ll tell ya that much. So, you wanna show me?”

Flabbergasted, Aiden tried in vain to understand what he had just been asked to do. “Show you… what?”

“Show me how you did it.”

The whole situation was so strange, and so unexpected, Aiden could barely comprehend the request. But that simmering arousal that was stirring just beneath the surface of his skin, became stronger by the minute, and even more so by the lewd way Hancock was looking expectantly at him. The thought of touching himself in front of Hancock, despite his initial embarrassment, was beyond arousing.

Hancock leaned towards him again, placing feather light kisses on his temple, his cheek, and then his neck right behind his ear before once again uttered the request. “Show me.”

Biting his lips, Aiden acquiesced. Tracing his hands down his body and to his crotch, began to open the front of his pants, his hands trembling a bit in trepidation. Regardless of his abashment, he only seemed to harden under the watchful gaze of the Ghoul.

In an attempt to probably calm Aiden’s nerves, the mayor slowly carded his fingers through Aiden’s hair, pressing his lips to his temple as he kept talking. “Then what did ya do?”

Aiden could barely remember the details of the incident, but he did what he usually did, giving a couple of experimental strokes before speeding up. He barely finished more than a handful when a hand landed on his arm.

“Slow down,” Hancock commanded. “We’re not in a hurry.”

Despite disliking the order, he still nodded his assent and continued in a much more moderate pace, feeling something within coil inside at the heated gaze Hancock was giving him. With Aiden stroking himself, Hancock kept encouraging him by smoothing his hand up and down the ex-raider’s legs, or alternating combing and careful pulling on his hair, all the while as he whispering dirty nothings in his ears.

It took less time than Aiden wanted to admit for him to reach the precipice.

“Hanco --”

“Shh, shh, slow down.”

Aiden closed his eyes in frustration, but still chose to follow the instruction. There was nothing Hancock could actually do to force him, but Aiden still wanted to play along.

“You’re doing good, Aiden. So, very, good. Such a _good_ boy.”

A jolt passed through him and Aiden was moments away from losing it. “Please…!” he pleaded breathlessly.

“Not yet. Keep your eyes closed for a moment.”

Feeling like it was the quickest way to get to where he wanted to be, Aiden once again did as he was told.

Suddenly a very slick hand drew a slow stroke, the added lubricant causing Aiden’s balls to draw up. Gasping, Aiden lost his rhythm and went from close to impossibly closer.

“Fuck...! I’m gonna --”

“Shh, shh, shh, not yet,” Hancock said, nudging Aiden’s hand aside to take over for him.

It was difficult to get over how different it felt to have someone else’s hand pleasure him, and the uneven texture of the mayor’s hand did nothing to quench that feeling. Keeping a firm grip around him, sliding frictionlessly up and down his aching sex. How something could feel so mind-bendingly wonderful and at the same time almost painfully arousing was a mystery to him. He wanted nothing else than to let go, and just thinking about it made it so much worse. Aiden opened his eyes, not remember when he closed them, to watch as Hancock’s glistening hand pumped at a deliberately slow pace.

“You’re fucking kidding me if you think I can hold ba --” Aiden swallowed the rest of his words and dunked his head into the wall when Hancock pressed the nail of his thumb into the slit.

“I listen to ‘stop’ and ‘no more’, everything else that you’re spouting will be thoroughly ignored.”

Aiden had abandoned any thoughts of trying to control the pace, placing both of his hands behind him, gripping the headboard for dear life.

How Hancock had managed to find lubricant was beyond his capability to figure with his sex-burned brain, however curious the question made him.

“Wh-wh-where did --” Aiden began, before a loud moan silenced the rest of the sentence as Hancock slid the pad of his thumb roughly over the head.

“The oil? Not that hard if you know where to look.”

Aiden was writhing on the bed, pulled between wanting to thrust into that fist with abandon and trying his best not to come.

“ _Please, oh please, oh please…_ ” Aiden murmured, doing his best to swallowing his frustration. If he there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he would not last for much longer. “Hanc --”

“Just a little bit longer. You can do it, Aiden,” Hancock answered, not altering the pace of his wrist. As slow and frustrating it had felt from the beginning, the movement had gone from _not enough_ to _clearly enough_ to tip him over the edge since Hancock started.

“Can’t…!” Aiden pushed out, gasping for air while the mayor played him like a fine tuned instrument. “I - I - I…!”

He wanted nothing else than to follow the instruction Hancock had given him, but the room had started to grow fuzzy around the edges, and he felt like he was burning up.

“Please…!”

“You’re doing so good, Aiden. Just a little while longer.”

Aiden’s toes were curling, his back arching, sweat running down the back of his neck and down, his entire being focused on what Hancock was doing with his hand. It was even becoming hard to breath.

“I beg you…! Please!” Aiden pleaded, staring desperately at Hancock, imploring the man to allow him release.

Hancock released his grip around Aiden’s arousal. Before Aiden had time to object, the Ghoul had crawled up his body, and proceeded to give him open mouthed kisses.

“Don’t worry,” Hancock spoke against Aiden’s open mouth. “I won’t leave ya hangin’.”

Kissing his way down the column of Aiden’s neck, his chest, and his abdomen, Hancock put his lips right next to the base of Aiden’s member, making it twitch and leak in response.

The Ghoul placed one arm on Aiden’s abdomen before pushing down. “See how long you can hold out,” was the last thing Hancock said, before swallowing Aiden down to the base.

Aiden had just enough mind left to cover his mouth before he completely lost it, feeling his last barriers drain away as Hancock’s throat constricted around him as he swallowed. After being teased for who knew how long the release felt almost painful, but that did nothing to stop him from screaming in pleasure. His body ached as the coil inside him unraveled, his sight whitened, and he felt every muscle in his stomach clench and fight against the pressure of Hancock’s arm as he forced his hips down in the bedding, emptying himself out into the Ghoul’s warm and wet mouth.

He had no idea how long he was out, but Hancock had already re-dressed him when he came to.

“Fuck…,” Aiden groaned, pulling a hand down his face. “That can’t be legal.”

Hancock laughed softly. “Happy to help.”

Feeling like he was on clouds, he could only watch Hancock as he stared back at him, his head propped on one elbow. Hancock used his free hand to stroke Aiden’s abdomen in a comforting manner.

Feeling as if he was missing something, Aiden glanced down to see Hancock still hard; a prominent bulge tenting his pants. “I could --”

“Don’t bother yourself about it,” Hancock quickly interrupted.

The abrupt dismissal caused Aiden to frown. “Come on. At least that wouldn’t feel as if I’m using you.”

The corner of Hancock’s mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to reciprocate when we get back to Goodneighbor. Just enjoy what I give you.”

“I hope you noticed I did, and do, enjoy it. But it can’t be comfortable walking around with blueballs.”

“As much as I appreciate your concern in relation to my health, take it for what it is. I’ll let you do what you want in Goodneighbor, but until then, my rules.”

“Yes, ‘cause your rules aren’t valid in _your own town_.”

“Now there’s the little shithead I know and love,” Hancock said burying his head in Aiden’s neck to try to bite him, while Aiden tried to understand if Hancock had just, in a weird sense, made a love confession.

“Always at your service,” Aiden said, the last word breaking up as Hancock tried to mark him.

Which was exactly when the door opened.

“Uhhm,” the Vaultie said staring at Hancock and Aiden in bed. “Should I come back later?”

“Nah,” Hancock responded. “You just missed the fun.”

Clearly uncertain, the vault-dweller still hesitated before walking into the room. “See, this is why I try to put us in different rooms. You’re acting like fucking teenagers,” Nate commented, walking up to a free bed at the opposite side of the one Hancock and Aiden was occupying, unequipping most of his weapons and armor before carefully placing them either up on, or against, the chest of drawers.

“Well, Aiden is practically a teenager --”

“Am not!” Aiden loudly objected.

“-- so can you really blame us?”

The vault-dweller just kept preparing for bed, his back turned to them as he shook his head. “You’re hopeless, John.”

Hancock huffed out a laugh, before turning to draw up the bedspread to cover them both before moving closer to the other male. “Mmmm. Could get used to this,” he said nibbling on Aiden’s ear, causing a shock of heat pass through Aiden.

“Bad idea,” Aiden whispered, trying to demonstrate where this would lead them if Hancock were to continue. Based on the cat-like grin Hancock afforded him, he was well aware of it, and did not much care.

“So?” Hancock whispered the challenge, pulling up Aiden’s shirt a bit to trace invisible patterns on the skin of his stomach.

Aiden gave a meaningful nod in the Vaultie’s direction.

“Sole doesn’t mind,” Hancock growled, biting Aiden’s throat.

“Do too,” could be heard from the other side of the room.

“It’s the closest to action he’s been having since getting out of the Vault,” Hancock continued as if Nate had not just vocally objected against being an observer of whatever the Ghoul insinuated.

“Not true,” Nate continued to protest.

“I don’t think --” Aiden began, but his thoughts derailed when Hancock groped the front of his pants. Despite his reluctance, and despite still being sensitive from earlier, he could not help but thrust back.

“Good thing there’s no need for thinking, then.”

Aiden enjoyed the touch for a couple of more seconds, before being reminded of the other party in the room, who purposefully cleared their throat to demonstrate that he could hear them. He was not up for displaying any voyeuristic tendencies, and Nate had already given his stance on the subject. Grasping Hancock’s wrist, he looked up into his eyes and whispered ‘stop’. And Hancock stopped.

“Sorry,” Hancock said as he removed his hands to back off. “Not gonna do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” the words followed by a grumbled ‘ _what about me_ ’ from the bed opposite of them.

Aiden was momentarily anxious that Hancock would jump off the mattress for how far he retreated, but he did not move further away than to the edge. The mayor looked equally as anxious about having crossed a line he probably should not have. “You’re okay with me being here?”

Rolling his eyes, Aiden reached for Hancock’s hand before enveloping it around his midriff, turning and pushing his back to the mayor to communicate how and in what manner he appreciated contact. Hancock was not late to react, tentatively trying to establish what he was and was not allowed to do. Eventually, they rested comfortably next to each other, Aiden’s head on Hancock’s arm, and Hancock’s hand tracing patterns on Aiden’s stomach.

“Kid?” Hancock asked quietly.

“Mmmhnn?” Aiden mumbled questioningly, realising he was closer to sleep than he had initially thought.

“I’m sorry I made you doubt me.”

“‘s okay. Sorry don’ have boobs,” Aiden rambeled sleepily.

“What?” Hancock asked.

“Never mind. Sleeping.”

Hancock kissed his cheek before hugging Aiden tighter, slowly relaxing his grip as he got closer to sleep. Aiden fell asleep long before Hancock’s hand had stopped pressing the ex-raider firmly towards his own chest.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a second chapter shortly after this one (due to the rather long wait for this one). Sooo.... stay tuned? Does that work in writing?

For the first time in long time (or at least since they left Goodneighbor), Aiden woke up feeling both warm and content, urging him to take longer than usual to open his eyes. The golden light of sunrise filled the shack. Beams of light shining between the wooden planks, highlighting every dust particle flying through the air as they crossed the streams of light filling the bunkhouse.

Stretching out, it took him some time to realise he had company, and that said company was currently looking at him warmly with half-shut eyes.

“Morning, sunshine,” Hancock said, brushing Aiden’s hair away from his face.

“Morn’,” Aiden replied mid yawn, leaning further into Hancock’s hand.

Encouraged by the ex-raider’s enthusiastic response, the Ghoul kept combing the younger male’s hair, allowing Aiden to move closer and eventually place his head on the Ghoul’s shoulder.

Contently, they kept their closedness as the mayor kept pampering Aiden, untangling his hair and scratching his scalp, while the youngerman kept encouraging Hancock to continue with purrs and sighs of pleasure. Not bothering to open his eyes until the Ghoul stopped his ministrations to make himself comfortable.

Looking up at Hancock, Aiden could not help but reach out, to touch. Hancock just gave him a sleepy smile in return, allowing Aiden to roam, to trace each tendon, each crease in the Ghoul’s far from perfect skin.

_ I could get used to this. _

Aiden kept his touches chaste but exploratory, feeling every breath or the subtlest of hitches as Hancock reacted to the contact. 

“So,” Hancock purred. “Convinced yet that you’re ‘my type’?”

“Shut up,” Aiden commented, poking the smug Ghoul in his ribs for the comment. “All I’m convinced of is that you’re a horny bastard.”

“Not denying it,” Hancock replied pleased.

“No, ‘cause then you’d be lying,” Aiden retorted.

The Ghoul just hummed, still looking like a lazy cat on the bed with his eyes trained on Aiden.

_ I would be so easy to just stay here,  _ Aiden kept thinking, drawing his hand up and down Hancock’s torso, watching the Ghoul close his eyes. Staying in this comfortable little bubble of theirs, ignoring everything outside of the four shack walls, would have been easy.

Outside, the settlement hummed with activity. Each note accompanied by the back-beat of shovels hoeing the ground, small splashes as settlers trudged through the swimming pool to harvest Tarberries. The Slog was everything County Crossing was not; serene and tranquil, without patrolling minutemen and bickering settlers.

Aiden closed his eyes and was assaulted by the memory of how Hancock and he had left the old Minutemen settlement. It made him quickly realise that although comfortable, theirs was still just an imaginary bubble.

“I’m sorry,” Aiden blurted out, and realised quickly how badly that broke the mood. 

Hancock opened his eyes, giving Aiden a suspicious look, but made no other move. “For what?”

Letting out a small sigh, Aiden closed his eyes. “For what I said in County Crossing.”

The mayor grabbed Aiden’s questing hand before putting it down between them. Not necessarily forcefully, but with enough determination that Aiden dared not put it back where he wanted it.

“Your timing could use some improvement,” the Ghoul groused, dragging a hand over his face in an effort to wake up.

“I know, I get that, but, I felt --”

“Guilty conscience?” Hancock inquired sourly.

“ _ No _ ,” Aiden refuted, frowning. “That asshole deserved what he got. But I’m sorry for what I said to you afterwards.”

“Don’t lie to me,” the Ghoul demanded, giving the younger man a warning look.

“I’m not lying,” the ex-raider tried. “And I’m still sorry. I never meant to say it,” Aiden continued, imploring the other to believe him.

Hancock stilled. “Wait. You never meant to  _ say it _ , or never meant it?”

Aiden felt like he had just swallowed something very bitter. He had hoped that Hancock would not caught on to the way he choose to word his apology, but perhaps underestimating Hancock’s uncanny ability to know just what Aiden was not saying, was more than a bit naive at this point. “Come on, I don’t want to fight you.”

Hancock rolled on top of him bracketing Aiden’s head with his arms, leaving no room for escape, as he effectively pinned the younger man to the mattress. “Then be fucking honest with me.”

Aiden felt cornered, but nodded his assent.

“You proud of what you did as a Raider?”

“Fuck no.”

“But you don’t regret your actions.”

“I --” Aiden began, interrupting himself when becoming the sole receiver of Hancock’s angry glare. “I - I - I don’t regret meeting you.” The blush spread over his entire face, and he tried very hard not to squirm.

Hancock looked speechless for a few seconds but quickly recovered. “Not sure if I want to punch you for trying to manipulate me, or kiss you for saying something so fucking ridiculous.”

“I’d rather you not punch me.” Knowing that this dispute was far from over, but not particularly inclined to once more disrupt the mood, Aiden left it at that. 

“You don’t say,” Hancock said, and got up and off of Aiden. “I’m gonna take a walk. I suggest you go find Nate. He said something about havin’ a job for you.”

Aiden did not even need to speculate to know what kind of opportunity the blue-clad man had provided. “Great,” Aiden answered with as much enthusiasm as he felt. “I just love carrying that bastards stuff.”

***

“Hammer,” Nate requested from Aiden, who, despite walking over with the intention of telling Vaultie where he could shove said utensils, was once again unable to decline his  _ offer _ to aid him in fixing whatever was broken around the settlement. Aiden just passed the hammer before he went back to his current pastime and stared off into nothing. The background a constant whining of classical music from the other’s pip-boy.

“You sure you can’t do this yourself?” Aiden asked after another while of staring off into space.

Drawing up the rusted nail from the torn roofing felt of the bunkhouse, Nate threw a glance in Aiden’s direction. “Have something better to do with your time?”

While the Vaultie had a point, Aiden was reluctant to admit it.

“Well ~”

“Not really a question,” the vault-dweller interrupted him. “Besides, this is a learning experience for you.”

“Really?” Aiden replied doubtfully. “What is it that I’m actually  _ learning  _ then?”

The older male hummed in thought before answering. “Well, how to handle tools, how to fix a roof, how to build turrets…” Nate trailed off.

Grudgingly, Aiden conceded. When he from time to time actually watched the older male working (despite his best intention to thoroughly ignore him), he could not help but to put some things to memory, like how he rocked the hammer sideways when drawing the nail from the wooden supports of the roof. “Fine, fine. I’m learning. Gonna tell me  _ why _ I should learn this?”

“Simple. I might need your help with it at some point.”

_ Why the fuck would he need  _ my _ help? _

“Planning on taking a vacation? Heard the Glowing Sea has lovely weather this time of the year.”

“No, but you never know what might happen.”

Again, the Vaultie did have a point, however hesitant Aiden was admit that. While most people in the Commonwealth tried to avoid danger and deadly confrontations, Nate seemed to seek them out. In Aiden’s experience, that was an efficient way to get yourself killed. Or horribly maimed.

“Then teach me, oh great master,” Aiden said ironically.

“And teach you I shall, young padawan.”

“Young  _ what-now _ ? What’s with you and your weird references?”

“Never mind,” the Vaultie sighed, seemingly upset every time Aiden did not understand whatever weird things that came out of his mouth.

Staring off into space again, Aiden let his thoughts wonder. It was difficult to perceive how different it must have been to be raised in a Vault, compared to his own upbringing on a farm, and then later on being mentored by bandits and murderers. Aiden could never understand how easily the vault-dweller must have managed to acclimate himself to this life of violence, after most likely having lived in a severely sheltered environment for the bigger part of his life.

_ Can’t have been easy. _

While Aiden could assume that the Vaultie had not been outside for too long, his assumption based on how worn ( _ or rather not worn _ ) his shoes were, the older male seemed far too jaded to not have been around for longer than a year or two. From Aiden’s point of view, there could be two possible explanations for this. Either Vaultie had gone back for a spare set of vault drabs when his old ones had been worn out after years of service, or he had been trained in the vault for the specific types of danger that the Commonwealth was about to throw at him. Neither of the two theories seemed likely.

“So,” Aiden began, reading the number off of the blue overalls. “Vault 111, huh?”

An almost impossibly subtle twinge passed through the Vaultie’s body at its mentioning, which would have been missed had Aiden not been observing the other’s reaction quite as keenly.

“What about it?” Nate replied, outwardly behaving as he did before, though the ex-raider thought he detected a slight tightening of his voice, which testified that the topic of conversation made the other more than a little uneasy, and caused him to be on guard. Why that was, needed to be explored.

“You ever go back and visit?”

The Vaultie paused his work to give Aiden another one of his undecipherable looks. 

“At times,” the vault-dweller answered before continuing to pull old nails from the roof. “Why?”

“Never seen the inside of an active vault. Kinda curious as to what one looks like.”

_ … and how it is to live in one. _

Nate looked morose. “If you want to see a functioning vault, 81 would be your best bet.”

Although extremely curious, Aiden let the topic drop. Just a handful of weeks ago, his pursuit for knowledge would by far outweigh any discomfort experienced by others. But as time passed, he had come to realisation that pushing when meeting resistance was not the best way to get what you wanted. Nor was it a good way to make allies.

Letting the grinding music fill the air a while, Aiden tried to come up with another topic of conversation. “So how’d you and Hancock meet?”

Aiden again observed the Vaultie’s reaction, but could only distinguish humour coming off of the male. Apparently, the topic was not as traumatic as talking about the old vault-dweller’s home. 

_ Maybe I shouldn’t be too surprised. _

“He was part of the greeting committee when I arrived at Goodneighbor some time back,” Nate answered readily as he kept on working.

Remembering his own initial welcome to Goodneighbor, Aiden could not but nod in recognition. “Is that a thing he does?”

“No,” the Vaultie drawled as he wiggled a particularly stubborn nail from its wooden resting place. “I just think he happens to be where the action is. Not a lot goes on in Goodneighbor without him knowing about it. At least not for very long.”

Aiden could agree with that. “So what was your first impression of him?”

Nate snorted before answering. “Well, not the same one I have now, that’s for sure,” he murmured before he trailed off. “Could ask the same of you, really. I get it that he made an impression on you when we cleaned out the Boston School, so why go to Goodneighbor when you knew John was part of the invading party?”

“I didn’t,” Aiden responded truthfully, resting his chin in his hand. “Actually, I never saw him before we met in Goodneighbor. I just recognised him by voice, and by then it was a bit too late to do anything about it.”

The Vaultie hummed in acknowledgement. “I always thought it a bit strange that he never mentioned the correlation between that incident and your presence in Goodneighbor before you brought it up. He just told me you were a Raider that he threw you in the brig. Took me a while to figure out why he chose to keep that under wraps.”

Aiden looked in the direction of Hancock where he was relaxing by the pool, occasionally talking to Wiseman or Holly. The way he looked completely confident and self-assured made Aiden want to go over and pull a prank on him. Or kiss the life out of him.

“Umm,” Aiden hummed dubiously before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Right, so why’d he do that?”

“I think he wanted to give you a chance to make your own connections, without the added history. I guess he wanted you to make a life of your own.”

Aiden did not respond, allowing his thoughts to once more wander while the Vaultie kept working on mending the leaking roof. 

Beside answering the occasional request for a tool, Aiden and Nate sat in comfortable silence. Without knowing it, Aiden’s eyes kept locating Hancock, as he lounged by the pool.

Aiden knew first hand that Hancock had no qualms with murdering someone, if that someone fell into the category of ‘in need of some asskicking’. He was also fiercely protective of his own, prepared to do what was necessary to ensure safety of those he held close. But comparing the man that held him at gunpoint what now felt like a lifetime ago, with the man that held him close last night (and this morning), was, to say the least, quite difficult. Hancock had a bit of a reputation. Even as a Raider, Aiden heard as people talked about the Ghoul that ran Goodneighbor, and how you should stay on the local leader’s good side if you valued your health. Even Lucky thought it necessary to voice his concern over Aiden’s new-found choice of company, and that man was not a Raider easily swayed by rumours.

Aiden’s thoughts immediately stumbled as the song once again changed on the radio. Making a noise of disgust. “I fail to see any reason why’d you listen to that crap,” Aiden commented. “You do have coverage for Diamond city radio on that fancy wrist-watch, yeah? That guy Travis is  _ way _ better than whatever impression of rusting gears you’re listening to.”

He heard the Vaultie’s mumbling of ‘kids these days’ before he, to Aiden’s grievances,  _ increased _ the music volume. “I think,” the Vaultie began. “I’m going to keep listening to classical violin, and also I think I’ll keep ignoring your opinions in regard to my chosen work music.”

“But, why?” Aiden implored in what was definitely  _ not a whine _ . ”Don’t tell me you actually like it. Is it, like, some standard vault music?”

Again, a small twinge could be seen at the mentioning of the Vaultie’s origins. His reaction made Aiden immensely curious, and it was so difficult to just bite down on the almost automatic response to keep prodding. “I wouldn’t know,” Nate commented just as the horrible music broadcast was suddenly cut short.

_ Finally!  _ Aiden thought, but his triumph was short-lived.

“We interrupt this broadcast for an emergency message,” a male called out. “A settlement has requested assistance. All minutemen stationed close to... Sanctuary Hills, please report for duty. I repeat…”

Nate was up before the man on the radio had time to repeat the message.

“Shit!” Nate swore, brushing past Aiden to jump down the roof, foregoing the ladder in favour of speed. “Shit, shit, shit! Hancock, be ready to move out. We need to get to get to Sanctuary. ASAP,” Nate called, running into the pool house.

Aiden was a bit slower on the uptake, but slid down the ladder as well when he noticed the panic in which the vault-dweller was gathering supplies.

Hancock arrived not moments later, standing next to Aiden by the ladder.

“What’s ‘Sanctuary’?” Aiden asked him, taking in the grave and worried look Hancock was giving Nate.

“Sanctuary Hills is a settlement way west of here. And Sole’s old home.”

Aiden quickly realised why Nate was panicking. “Oh shit.”

 


	35. Chapter 35

The speed in which they traveled could not be sustained for very long, least of all by Aiden. Nate seemed to have little to no issue with the pace, as he started to rush even faster to get to the settlement on time, while Aiden clearly could feel how these last weeks of leisure had affected his stamina.

“They’re still shouting out the same message?” Aiden asked the vault-dweller, feeling winded and breathless from having had to run uphill to cut across even more terrain. Just looking at the winding road ahead made Aiden realise that it would be a far from pleasurable hike to the settlement.

“Yeah,” the Vaultie answered. “No changes.”

“Any idea what we’re facing?” Aiden wanted to know. After all, it would be useful to know what to prepare for.

“None. Doesn’t matter. We’re still heading there,” Nate said with finality.

Aiden nodded, righting the straps of his rifle and backpack once more to keep them from falling off of his shoulder as they jogged along the decrepit pavement. Peeking in Hancock’s direction, the man appeared to be keeping pace with the Vaultie. At least momentarily. Though Aiden could not imagine that the Ghoul possessed much better fitness than himself, considering his rather lax lifestyle. Well, perhaps compared to Aiden  _ before _ the rather unfortunate run-in with the tall green and ugly that crippled him and his capacity for oxygen intake for an unforeseeable amount of time. Since the incident, Aiden had not really exercised himself properly, and he felt it now. He had never become this winded previously during any of his supply or scavenging runs as a Raider.

One and a half hour later, Aiden was gasping for breath, clearly not yet used to running for any periods of time. While Hancock was still tight on Nate’s heels, even he was starting to run a bit short on breath.

“We need to stop, Sole,” Hancock commented once he noticed the way Aiden was struggling.

“No,” Nate answered firmly. “We need to increase the pace if we hope to get there in time,” he argued, barely winded. Aiden would have been impressed, had he not been so utterly incapacitated by his own inability to keep up.

“Look,” Hancock continued. “None of us will be of any use if we’re too tired to fight once we get there. A small break, then we move on.”

The Vaultie was notably reluctant to stop for anything, but appeared to see the merits in Hancock’s proposal. Checking his pip-boy, Nate explained that there was a campsite further ahead, and that they could rest there before moving on.

As soon as they reached the campsite, Aiden disengaged himself from both his backpack and rifle, and promptly collapsed on the ground. Closing his eyes in an attempt to remove the black spots that had appeared in his field of view, he was pulling in deeper breaths than his lungs were able to handle.

Hancock, although tired, had a better handle on his breathing. Grabbing a couple of water bottles from Nate, he made his way over to the gasping ex-raider, carefully lifting his head in order to let Aiden lean comfortably against the Ghoul’s lap, before handing him a water bottle.

“You hangin’ in there?” Hancock asked, stroking Aiden’s sweaty bangs out of his face.

Aiden was two breaths short of hyperventilating, and shook his head once as he continued gasping, trying to swallow down some water in between breaths without choking himself.

In his periphery, Aiden saw Nate pacing back and forth, eager to move on. While the action did nothing to calm Aiden, it was not as if he could do anything to rush his own recovery.

“Sit down, Sole,” Hancock ordered, apparently more affected by the vault-dwellers stressed out behaviour than Aiden.

“I’d rather stand,” Nate cut the request down. “Isn’t there anything you could give him?”

Hancock hesitated. “That’s the very opposite of recreational use,” he mumbled, watching as Aiden slowly regained the ability to regulate his breathing.

“He’s not keeping up,” Nate deadpanned.

“And chems not the solution,” Hancock objected resolutely.

“Out of breath… doesn’t mean… deaf,” Aiden forced out, mostly to make them talk  _ with _ him rather than  _ for  _ him.

“So what’s your opinion?” Nate asked. “We most likely need to keep a similar pace until we reach Sanctuary. Will you be able to handle it?” Nate gave off the air of wanting nothing else than for them to be on their way already.

Aiden tried to gulp down more of the water now that he was breathing in a semi regular fashion. Considering how exhausted this part of the trip had made him, he was ready to agree with the vault-dweller; his chances of making it to Sanctuary was looking rather bleak.

“What’s the alternative?” Aiden asked, glancing between Nate and Hancock.

Hancock shrugged his shoulders. “Take your pick: Buffout or Bufftats. Though I’m not sure this isn’t going to come back and bite us.”

Aiden nodded his understanding, giving his full consent to whatever Hancock would choose to give him.

“I didn’t tag you as an  _ anti _ -drug advocate, John,” Nate commented as Hancock started digging through his pockets after the aforementioned chems.

“I’m all for the occasional chem, you know that. It’s the addiction that’s a real bitch to kick. And everything about this is set up for the latter,” Hancock responded, and although obviously reluctant, he still pulled out a couple of pills from an inner pocket of his trademark coat, handing them over to Aiden.

“A couple of Buffouts isn't going to get him hooked,” Nate disputed, as Aiden took the pills and swallowed them down with what was left of the water.

“It’s not gonna end with a couple of them, which is part of the problem,” Hancock continued to argue, even though Nate had already won the debate.

As Aiden waited for the pills to take effect, he received help from Hancock to get off the ground, and not long after, he could feel the previous exertion that had been burning through his thighs, slowly but surely be replaced with a sort of all encompassing warmth. Where he was previously standing shakily on his legs, he now felt as if he could do squats for hours. Feeling his strength returning in chunks, and then in spades, Aiden felt pumped and ready to go within minutes.

“Wow, okay. Yeah, I could live with this,” Aiden commented once the Buffouts were in full effect. Taking in Hancock’s reproving stare, Aiden realised the other’s issue laid more with the situation than Aiden’s apparent enthusiasm with the drug’s effect. Hopefully.

“Then let’s move out,” Nate stated, already moving back in the direction of the road, scouting the nearby area to ensure that they would not run into trouble.

Hancock shouldered Aiden’s backpack, tossing Aiden his rifle before moving in the direction of the vault-dweller.

“I’m capable of carrying my own stuff,” Aiden commented. “You don’t need to --”

“Focus on keeping yourself upright to Sanctuary, Aiden, and I’ll handle the rest,” Hancock cut him off.

Aiden made a face, but had no time to dwell on Hancock’s behaviour as they were soon on the move again, the Vaultie again setting a ridiculous pace. Though this time, Aiden had less trouble keeping up.

It took some time, and there were several times they had to stop and fight off whatever creature the Commonwealth felt like throwing in their way, but they were making good progress.

They made it as far as Concord when it felt like someone pulled the plug to his new-found energy.

“Shit!” Aiden had barely any time to react before the asphalt came up to meet him. Narrowly avoiding a head on collision with the road, Aiden was once again grounded, and this time, he felt even more tired than before.

He saw Hancock run up to him, crouching down before allowing Aiden to sit up against him.

“Yeah, that happens,” Hancock commented, digging out a new pair of pills. “This will help you take the edge of. But I’m serious about not wanting you to make this a habit.”

Aiden gratefully accepted the dose, swallowing the pills dry. Although the recovery took longer this time, once in effect, Aiden barely felt the burn in his muscles that had grounded him only minutes before.

Gratefully receiving Hancock’s help to get up, Aiden was back on his feet and ready to move within minutes of collapsing.

“Not much further,” Nate commented, who finally started to show that even he was affected by their fast-paced journey.

After running up a hill, they arrived at an old Red Rocket station from which Aiden could see both a bridge and a sign claiming the land as ‘Sanctuary Hills’.

Even though they had heard repeated reports during their entire journey of trouble in Sanctuary, the settlement was eerily quiet. Quiet enough to be worrying. Pillars of smoke could be seen from different locations of the settlement, and the closest source Aiden could detect, came from a broken turret.

“Where’s the fire?” Aiden commented, trying to see what might have caused the panic. Even Nate looked concerned when they could not immediately spot the issue. “False alarm?”

The Vaultie frowned. “Never happened before,” Nate mumbled, though referred once more to his pip-boy, probably to investigate what was ( _ or rather wasn’t _ ) happening.

They were still standing on the other side of the bridge, confused and concerned, when a great roar was heard echoing across the settlement. The sound bouncing off the water that separated the settlement from the mainland, resounding between dead trees trunks and clip faces, reaching them in great distortion, making the monster seem even more monstrous.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” Aiden commented, feeling the colour literally drain from his face. “You’re not seriously thinking of going over there,” he asked Nate worriedly. It took just one look of his stoic face for Aiden to receive an answer to his question, and not the answer he desperately wanted.

“Tussling with a Deathclaw,” Hancock commented. “You sure about this, Sole?” 

Nate gave a resolute nod, not taking his eyes of the settlement.

“Well, it ain’t boring traveling with ya, I’ll say that much,” Hancock stated, before reloading his double-barreled shotgun.

“You’re not serious,” Aiden reiterated, though this time he focused on trying to convince at least Hancock to let it go. “It’s fuckin’ suicidal goin’ over there! Do you even know what a Deathclaws is?!” The later question directed to the sheltered man.

“I’m not abandoning the people living here,” Nate exclaimed, leaving no room for argument. “So either you help me, or you get out of my way, Aiden.”

Since it was obvious that Hancock would help in anyway possible, and that the Vaultie had completely lost his marbles, Aiden could not let him jump into the pit without jumping straight in with them. If not only to make sure they would not try to kill themselves needlessly.

“You’re both fuckin’ maniacs, know that?” Aiden commented, though knew the futility of trying to argue with either of them. Sighing in despair, Aiden conceded. “Fine. I’m helpin’, though this has gotta be the craziest shit I’ve ever done.”

“Glad to have you onboard,” Nate expressed before they started to work out a plan to bag themselves a Deathclaw.

***

“Alright, to recap,” Nate said, drawing a circle in the dirt where the Vaultie had spent time to draw out a rudimentary map of the settlement. “Aiden, gets up on the roof of one of the buildings at this side of town.” The Vaultie pointed his stick at the opposite side of the settlement from where they were standing. “Doesn’t matter which, as long as it gives you a clear view of the area. And since Deathclaws can’t climb, you should be out of harm’s way as long as you stay there.”

“Is that a proven fact?” Aiden asked, feeling less than confident in the soundness of sitting on an open rooftop when there was a monster lurking around between the buildings.

“You ever seen a Deathclaw climb?” the vault-dweller countered.

“No,” Aiden conceded. “But then again, Deathclaw spotting was never high on my ‘to-do‘ list. In fact,  _ and this might sound strange to you _ , but I make a point of  _ avoiding them _ .”

“Just take my word for it,” Nate asserted, ignoring Aiden’s sass. “When you get the all-clear from me, start firing. Once the Deathclaw reach your position, and you’ve damaged it enough, Hancock and I will move in. As soon as we start dealing damage, it’s possible it will start acting unpredictably. I’d rather be able to kill that thing quickly once that happens. So just try to weaken it as much as possible, and consider retreat if necessary. Up here,” Nate drew another circle on the dirt map. “There’s a vault. You can open it from a security outpost right next to the platform. If worst comes to worst, fall back here.”

“Right,” Aiden acknowledged. “Right, okay. We ready to move out?” he asked, though feeling far from ready himself.

“You will be in a moment,” Hancock said, giving Aiden another pair of Buffouts. “Be sure to be done by the time these wear out, ‘cause after that, I’m cutting you off.”

Aiden swallowed his third set of pills, and once again felt his limbs reinvigorate.

“Alright. And don’t fuckin’ miss with that thing,” Aiden warned, pointing on the vault-dweller’s weapon of choice: a .308 Combat Sniper. While he was comfortably confident that MacCready could hit just about anything he aimed at, Aiden was less than sure of the Vaultie’s abilities as a long distance shooter. Should Nate miss, that rifle had the power to knock his head right off of his shoulders.

“I don’t intend to,” Nate commented, waving a Jet canister in the air before pocketing it. “Remember to wait for my signal.”

“Wait for your signal, got it,” Aiden confirmed, checking to see if he had all he needed.

Aiden braced himself for the inevitable battle, but before he had a chance to leave, Hancock grabbed his arm.

“Hey,” he began, tracing the inside of Aiden’s wrist with his fingertips. “Light ‘em up, will ya?” Hancock said with a flirtatious smile. Aiden could only laugh at the contrast between the mayor’s soft gesture and the situation at hand.

“Like a fuckin’ bonfire.”

Hancock took a step closer, bracing Aiden’s face with his hands before planting a sensual kiss against Aiden lips, one he was eager to return.

“Good boy,” Hancock whispered, giving him one last peck before stepping back. “I’ll be right there if you need me.”

With one last nod directed to the both of them, Aiden took off, initiating their joint mission to take down the Sanctuary Hills’ Deathclaw.

Following the west bank along the stream, Aiden was steadily making his way around the settlement. He heard the Deathclaw scratching and moving about further away, though this close to the water, he had no line of sight of the beast.

Once at the opposite side of the settlement, Aiden climbed up the north side bank using an old rickety bridge, and jumped over a white picket fence into a decrepit backyard. Keeping his head down and his steps silent, Aiden made his way to the corner of the house with the aim to establish visual contact with the Deathclaw. Of what he could see from his current position, the creature currently faced the opposite direction, trying to reach into a house through the window, probably attempting to scoop up any settlers unfortunate enough to not avoid the beast’s reach.

Not willing to risk blowing his cover, Aiden set about to finish his first step of the mission: get to higher grounds. A quick glance around revealed a ladder lying in the dried grass. Lifting the old construct, Aiden was able to lean the ladder against the house wall and quickly climb up the roof.

Like the rest of the building, the roof was in desperate need of repairs, and Aiden’s ungracious movement did not help in ensuring its stability. The iron had probably rusted right through, and Aiden felt as if he was one misstep from walking right through the roof. An assessment that was not contradicted by the moaning and groaning of the underlying support beams.

Keeping a low profile, and trying to keep the roof’s singing to a bare minimum, Aiden crawled up to the apex of the house and settled down on one knee in order to steady his aim. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out a handful of clips, putting one in the gun before strategically placing the rest within easy reach.

Glancing up revealed that the Deathclaw was still trying to gain access to the house across, determinedly reaching in with its arms and claws with the hope of catching something.

Aiden loaded the first bullet into the chamber of the gun to make sure that the mag was properly installed, awaiting the vault-dweller’s signal.

Nate and Hancock was going to try to sneak in using the front entrance of the settlement, trusting Aiden to distract the beast long enough for them to get in without notice.

_ We’ll see how that goes. _

Aiden was rather anxious. If he failed to keep the Deathclaw’s awareness, both the vault-dweller and Hancock would be in grave danger. Then again, keeping the Deathclaw attention drawn to himself did not seem like the healthiest of occupations either.

Aiden saw movement in the corner of his eye, revealing that Nate had moved into position, before he gestured for Aiden to begin whenever he was ready.

_ Well, here goes nothing. _

Taking a shaky breath, Aiden released the safety, and slowly aimed at what he perceived to be the Deathclaw’s weakest point: its neck. Lining up, and steading his hand for a second or two, Aiden finally took the plunge and pushed the trigger.

One, two, three bullets managed to find their target before the beast realised it was under fire, and four, five, six were lodged beneath its hide before it moved out of the way. The rest of the magazine was fired at the empty space it left behind. Looking around, it took the Deathclaw much less time to locate from where it had been fired upon, then it took for Aiden to switch out the empty clip for a new one.

Once he had managed to reload, the creature was already pacing right next to the house on which he was precariously standing.

While Deathclaws were undoubtedly large animals, in comparison with the house it was clear that this beast was larger than most. It caused the bottom of Aiden’s stomach to drop out and cold sweat began to run down his neck.

_ It’s fucking huuuuge! _

It became obvious pretty fast that they were not facing a normal Deathclaw; the head of the predator easily reaching as high as the roof of the old house, giving it ample opportunity to try to swipe after Aiden. Lucky for him, Aiden still had the height advantage. Taking aim, Aiden shot the first three shots of the clip into the head of the beast. The thing howled in rage before managing to evade the rest of Aiden’s bullets.

_ Shit. How is it fair that they won the evolutionary lottery, both on accounts of unsurpassable agility and razer-fucking-sharp claws? _

Trying to silence his thought of awe, Aiden started to reload his gun, hoping to get a better hit-ratio this time around, when the horrible sound of claws penetrating metal notified him that something was afoot. Looking up, Aiden spotted the Deathclaw as it tried to dig in its claws into the roof, causing his heart to almost stop.

“Nuh-uh, roof’s taken. Get your own,” Aiden commented with bravado he definitely did not feel, and fired at the offending claws. The Deathclaw removed its hands instantly, but quickly returned them to dig deeper into the roof. From its anchor points, it started to pull itself up on the roof. Giving Nate the benefit of a doubt in his assessment that Deathclaws cannot climb, it apparently did not stop the beast in front of him from pulling itself up once it gained enough leverage to do so.

_ Fucking bullshit that Deathclaws don’t climb! _

Aiden tried once again to make the creature lose its grip by firing at its limbs, but made a quick change of plans once he noticed the evident lack in effect. Before the Deathclaw had managed to fully pull itself up, Aiden abandoned his post, turned tail and jumped off of the roof. As he landed, he heard the thing scramble across the old metal plating to a cacophony of sounds that signalled the support beams’ loud objection to the added weight.

While the house might not have been the most structurally sound place to hang around for long, Aiden was not willing to wait for the creature to get a jump on him. Getting a running start, Aiden jumped through the already broken window, and landed on the floor just as he heard the heavy body hit the ground outside. Aiden barely got his feet out from under him when a huge claw came flying towards him, narrowly missing him by inches.

_ Too, close. Too, close. Too, fucking, close! _

Aiden was shaking badly as he fired the last few shots of the clip into the beast’s face. The monster roared in frustration or pain, and used its superior strength to fully destroy the window, creating an opening large enough for it to force its way into the house.

_ FUCK!  _

Aiden narrowly avoided getting minced as the creature lashed out. Clambered out of the room in the hope of finding a Deathclaw-free exit, he could hear as the monster used its superior strength to crush the interior walls of the house behind him.

Throwing himself out of the regular human-sized exit, Aiden managed to get out of the death-trap just as the predator realised it would not be able to leave the same way Aiden had. As the thing growled in frustration, Aiden loaded a new clip into the gun, and promptly emptied it into the trapped Deathclaw.

The following howl sounded terrifying in Aiden’s ears, and he had little doubt that he would soon need to run. Fast. And very far. While he once again reloaded his gun, he heard the creature walk out the back of the house, where it had originally entered.

_ Now’s a perfect time to help me out, vaultie! _

Swallowing in trepidation, Aiden backed away as he aimed towards where he expected the Deathclaw to soon appear. The predator moved in a deliberate manner around the corner, clearly displaying its intelligence behind those cruel eyes. Aiden took another step back, feeling extremely exposed now that nothing stood in between the carnivorous monster and his own person.

Even if Aiden emptied his current clip into the monster, Aiden was sure it would not be enough to take him down.

_ Come, the fuck on, Nate! _

Taking another step back, the Deathclaw took a heavy, and significantly larger, step closer. Aiden felt as if he was being toying with. The monster playing with its food before deciding to rip him into bite-size shreds for easier consumption.

“Nice Deathclaw,” Aiden tried to placate the animal, but received a deafening roar in his face instead. It was not until Aiden saw the creature turn its head in the direction of the vault-dweller that he realised that the howl was not a loud objection to Aiden’s coddling, but Nate firing into its tough hide. While feeling a bit relief, Aiden could not stop the annoyance he felt at the silent shot.

_ Him and his fucking suppressors! _

While the original plan had been for Aiden to try to (as close to) kill the animal off before Nate rushed in, it was obvious that, despite the numerous rounds Aiden had emptied out into it, the beast was far from dying. Had the Vaultie not decided to deviate from his own plan, Aiden would not favour his own chance of survival.

The Deathclaw all but lost all interest in Aiden, turning and rushing towards the bigger threat to its survival: the blue-clad Vaultie armed with a .308 caliber monsterslayer.

Nate fired another shot at the Deathclaw that was quickly shortening the distance between them. The bullet hit true, right in the eye of the predator, causing it to momentarily lose its pace and stumble, roaring at the loss of its eye.

_ Fuck yes! _

While it seemed to actually take damage from the vault-dweller’s rifle, he was not able to fire at the same rate as Aiden. Acting support, Aiden took aim at the large back of the creature and managed to, for the first time since the battle started, empty an entire clip into the animal. Though the .45 caliber rounds were obviously not having the same effect as the .308’s.

As the Nate fired yet another round into the large body of the monster, the Deathclaw appeared to receive some type of energy boost. From being what Aiden believed to be half dead, it suddenly got twice as fast. Aiden had reloaded the gun, but every shot he fired went wide as the Deathclaw dodged to avoid them.

From that distance, Aiden could only watch as the Deathclaw advanced and mauled the vault-dweller, before striking him hard, throwing his body with a resounding blow into the closest building.

“Vaultie!” Aiden shouted, again trying to fire towards the quick monster. The Deathclaw either avoided the bullets or did not care when it was hit, keeping up its assault on the defenceless man, before it suddenly stopped. Edging closer to the Vaultie, the Deathclaw seemed to sniff the air above the wounded male.

Seeing the monster lean over the lifeless body of the vault-dweller, Aiden sparked into action, and was about to run forward when Hancock ran up to the beast from an angle, firing both barrels into the thick hide of the creature, causing the animal to roar in pain.

“How ‘bout you pick on someone that bites back, you overgrown lizard,” Hancock growled, narrowly avoiding to get his neck slit by the very claws that gave the monster its name.

Hancock was fast, but Aiden had no doubt that given a chance, the Deathclaw was probably faster. And all the while that the Ghoul was busy avoiding getting shredded, he was unable to reload his shotgun. Quickly replacing the half-empty clip in his rifle, Aiden once again fired at the beast.

While previously almost futile, the bullets had apparently become enough of nuisance to again merit attention, as the Deathclaw quickly switched targets. And while the whole point of the exercise had been just that, Aiden had not accounted for it. Which he realised as he was still standing out in the open, in the middle of the road with no cover in close vicinity.

_ Oh, so now you care? Make up your mind! _

Aiden quickly emptied the rest of the magazine and legged it before the creature got too close. He did not even need to look behind him to know that despite running as fast as he could, the Deathclaw was gaining on him, feeling the vibrations of its heavy gait getting closer and closer.

When the monster was close enough behind him, Aiden dropped down, and actually managed to make the beast overshoot him. Though it barely needed to stop in order turn back after him, much faster than Aiden had anticipated. He scrambled to get out of the way, but was not fast enough as he felt the sickly sharp claws catch him across his back, tearing the armor to shreds as if it were made of silk rather than hardened leather. While the armor was torn to shreds, it fortunately gave enough protection to cause the claws to merely scratch the skin on his back.

Getting a hold of a tuft of yellowed grass, Aiden was able to pull himself upright and away from the Deathclaw before giving it a chance to further mince his back.

Aiden ran, only stopping once he was next to Hancock.

“You alright, brother?” Hancock asked, not releasing the Deathclaw from his sight.

“Just a scratch,” Aiden answered, though his initial conclusion that the beast made a near miss might have been premature, as he could feel blood starting to trickle down his back from several different spots. “Or, well, at least all organs are still on the inside,” he amended.

While they had gotten a small respite, the beast once again flung itself after them, forcing Aiden to throw himself in the opposite direction of Hancock. The creature turned its one remaining eye to Aiden, who tried to desperately enter another clip into the gun.

The sound of Hancock firing both barrels once again echoed between the houses, causing the monster to turn his back to Aiden.

Aiden fired the entire clip into its back, which it had gone back to ignoring, focusing to strike after Hancock rather than chase after Aiden. The Ghoul narrowly avoided yet another swipe from the monster by escaping into a house on the opposite side of the road. Aiden reloaded, preparing to run after the creature, when the Deathclaw, instead of swinging its claws at the house hit a tree. Aiden could only watch in horror as the tree fell right across the building, through the roof, and caused the entire house to collapse in on itself.

“Hancock!” Aiden shouted in despair, earning the immediate attention of the creature. He fired the entire clip in its direction, half off them hitting, half of them missing as the Deathclaw dodged them.

Aiden ran, grabbing a another clip from his pocket to try to reload his gun without slowing down. Beside the one he immediately enclosed in his hand, his ammo supply was disparagingly empty.

_ Last fucking clip. Better make it count. _

Deciding where the creature would attack, Aiden turned and emptied his clip, or rather eight bullets, into various places of the Deathclaw. And while a miracle would have been appreciated, the Commonwealth rarely provided you one when you needed it to. The shots slowed the beast for a couple of seconds before it leapt, catching Aiden in the front of his leather chest piece, neatly and effortlessly lifting him off the ground. He tried to squirm out of the grip, but quickly realised he would not be able to get away. Grabbing after the small pipe pistol, Aiden began to empty the gun into the monster, which promptly just smacked the gun out of his hand and far out of his reach. Disarmed and out of bullets, Aiden could only stare at the Deathclaw as it were about to kill him.

_ This is gonna hurt, isn’t it? _

Aiden watched in dread as the predator raised its other hand in preparation to skewer the ex-raider, almost appearing to smile scornfully as Aiden counted down until he would undoubtedly feel those sharp scythes pierce right through him, bracing for the inevitable pain that would cause his body to eventually shut down. The reflection of the sunset caught in razor sharp claws, almost as if reflecting his own doom.

_ I fuckin’ hate being right.  _

Aiden had closed his eyes, waiting for the inescapable end, when the sound of a laser musket being fired broke his  _ I’m-about-to-die  _ mentality. The only reason he recognised the sound was that he had been a passive observer to a skirmish between the Minutemen and a rivaling Raider gang six months back. Mostly because the sound had made his ears pop.

His reminiscing thoughts were interrupted by the Deathclaw’s pained roar. Aiden opened his eyes just to stare at the threatening stump that had once been its hand. Before Aiden had time to recover from his shock, the creature had all but thrown its prey away, to search for the culprit behind his declawed (and de-handed) hand.

He heard the tell-tale sound of a crank, before the Deathclaw once again was shot, this time in the leg, effectively crippling its knee. Another crank and a hole appeared through its shoulder.

Howling in frustration, the Deathclaw appeared to finally get a lock on the person slowly murdering it, trying to dash with a broken leg towards them.

A last crank, an echo of a shot, and Aiden saw part of its head explode. Finally, after a long grueling fight, the monster was grounded. For good.


	36. Chapter 36

“You alright?” the male asked as he got closer.

Aiden glanced up from where his eyes had been locked to the body of beast, now nothing but a corpse, to the man that was walking towards him. The male wore a light colored coat over a blue waistcoat, carrying a pre-cranked and already loaded laser musket, ready to fire at a moment's notice.

“Could’ve been a lot worse,” Aiden murmured, picturing what would have happened had the person in question shown up only moments later. Feeling himself at a disadvantage from where he was sitting, he tried to make an effort to push himself up off the ground. And failed miserably. 

“Easy there,” the man said, trying to assist Aiden when he started to struggle. “You probably need someone to have a look at that,” he continued, indicating the ex-raider’s profusely bleeding back.

“It’s fine,” Aiden brushed aside the other’s concern. He would worry about himself later, when he was sure Hancock was safe.

_ Oh fuck, Hancock! _

As soon as he was able to stand on his own, he rushed past the male and towards the collapsed house where the Ghoul had been downed. A couple of settlers had already dared to come out of their hiding places, and some of the men that had arrived alongside with the Musket-man, had already started to dig into the rubble. Two others approached the vault-dweller, or, what Aiden feared was only left of him.

Aiden started frantically to pull bent metal from the collapsed building, despite the fact that he could feel it severely aggravating the lacerations along his back. What had started as a steady trickle of blood was starting to feel very different. So far, his shirt had managed to absorb a lot of the blood, but even Aiden could tell that the cloth was getting saturated underneath his armor, or rather underneath _ what was left  _ of his armor.

Aiden was about to ask the stranger to help him, but as he opened his mouth, the Musket-man had already shouldered his signature weapon and started to help Aiden lift debris out of the ruined house.

With their combined effort, it took barely more than a handful of minutes to create a big enough opening into the pile of scrap for a person to crawl in. While Aiden prepared to jump right in, the militia lieutenant stopped him, urging the younger man to stay put as one of his men entered in his stead. The militia quickly disappeared under the supports currently holding the rubble in place, and crawled further into what had once been a house.

Tense seconds passed with only the sound of the armed man trying to navigate the ruins. The male called out to Hancock, making Aiden aware of each heartbeat that passed when no reply was heard. What started as a groan, followed by Hancock’s honeycomb voice as he answered the call, caused relief to flood Aiden’s body, flushing away the last of the adrenaline from his system and causing his knees to buckle.

“Shit,” Aiden exclaimed just as he was about to hit the ground, making the rather late realisation that adrenaline was not the only thing that had been flushed from his system. If he planned to move somewhere he would need to be carried, or he would have to stay where he was. As it were, he was not capable of moving any place on his own.

“Hey,” Musket-man said, trying to get Aiden’s attention. “You feeling okay?”

‘Okay’ was not the word he would use. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Aiden quite honestly shook his head, not sure what to answer the man.

“How’s the Vaultie doin’?” Aiden asked instead, choosing again to deflect the question rather than to try to evaluate his own state of health.

The militia glanced over his shoulder, probably to gauge how well the other team was doing. “Pretty roughed up,” he answered somberly.

_ I’m guessing he’s still breathing then. Shit, this was not how I pictured that this trip would go when I left Goodneighbor. _

“Can I help you with anything?” Musket-man asked Aiden, interrupting his inner monologue. While he for a moment toyed with the idea to decline the offer, he quickly thought better of it.

“Actually,” Aiden began, a bit uncertain of how he was going to phrase his inquiry. “Think anyone around here could potentially sit on a stash of Buffout?”

The disapproving glare Musket-man aimed at Aiden was not difficult to discern, but the man still went to fulfill the request. Less than a minute later, he was back with a bottle labeled ‘Buffout’, handing it over to Aiden.

“You know that stuff will kill you, right?” he saw fit to comment as Aiden down two pills from the bottle, pocketing the remaining pills of the package. It was a wonderful feeling to have his energy slowly return to his overworked limbs, eventually allowing him to get up on his own. The feeling was good enough that it was difficult to ignore just  _ how good _ it actually felt.

“It’s not a regular thing,” Aiden felt the need to defend himself. “Just until I’m able to recover the natural way.”

Musket-man clearly did not believe him, but there was nothing Aiden could do to change that at the moment. “I think we skipped the introductions earlier,” Musket-man said to change subject. “Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen,” he said, reaching out his hand.

Aiden took the hand and shook it once. “Aiden,” he answered, well aware of his lack of title. “Thanks for the save earlier.”

Preston shrugged his shoulders. “No need to thank us. We would have been here earlier, but we didn’t hear the distress call until we reached Abernathy’s. From there, we rushed here as fast we could.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not complaining. I mean, you could have been here later,” Aiden commented, well aware where ‘later’ would have left him.

“Just glad we were able to help,” Preston answered humbly. “Though I still think you should let someone look that over,” he said, nodding in the direction of Aiden’s back.

“It’s fine,” Aiden reiterated once again, though was not able to convince the minuteman of that either.

Hearing rubble shift behind them, both turned to see Hancock being supported out of his earlier imprisonment underneath the crushed house.

The sight of him caused Aiden’s heart to skip a beat. Beside the occasional scrape, and the obvious limb that he received support for, he did not look that much worse for wear. It was not even a conscious decision from Aiden to run towards him, but he soon found himself around the neck of the Ghoul, pressing his face into the nape of the man.

“Ouff! Happy to see you too, kid,” Hancock said in response to Aiden’s public display of affection, enveloping the ex-raider in his arms.

Aiden heard how Preston tried to disperse people around them, asking the settlers to ‘give them some space’ before leaving them on their own.

“I was fuckin’ terrified,” Aiden admitted, refusing to let Hancock go, refusing to raise his head from where he had tucked it in underneath the mayor’s chin, breathing in the soothing scent of smoke, wool and the man himself. “Fuck,” he whispered, feeling his voice break as he desperately tried to hold back the tears that threatened to escape from under his burning eyelids, clambering closer to the other.

In return, Hancock tightened his hold on the younger man. “We’re fine,” he asserted, “we’re fine,” sliding his hands up and down Aiden’s back to comfort him. He kept stroking until he suddenly halted his movement.

“Your shirt is wet,” Hancock reflected, turning Aiden around to get a better look. “Aiden, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s fi --”

“If you say ‘it’s fine’, then you’re clearly either high or suffering blood loss. So which one is it?”

“Ehh,” Aiden replied intelligently.

Hancock just sighed. “Either way, you need to see a doctor.”

While Aiden would have liked to argue against needing any medical aid, it was clear that Hancock would not relent. Instead of fighting, the ex-raider resigned himself to his fate.

Leading Aiden by using a loose hold on the back of his neck, which was the only place where Hancock could be sure that Aiden had not been cut by the Deathclaw, Hancock guided him in the direction of Preston.

The settlement was apparently large enough to house its own small medical practice. Though with Nate being in critical condition, the doctor was busy trying to keep him alive. A young female tended to them instead, guiding them into a small room that contained a handful of furniture and a medical bed.

The young woman Aiden learned, or Selah as she introduced herself as, was currently being taught the basics about medicinal and surgical practices from the settlement’s regular doctor. Though she was not confident enough to take over the practice herself, she pointedly assured Aiden that she was a professional and would be able to patch him up.

“I don’t need patching up,” Aiden complained.

“Like hell you don’t,” Hancock commented under his breath.

Selah just gave Aiden a patient smile, asking him to let her be the judge of that.

Aiden was asked to sit on a stool while the apprentice extracted all means of tools from various compartments in the small room, gathering them on a surgical tray and placing the tray on a small side table next to Aiden. As she was filling a bucket with water from a strange looking container, the ex-raider got a chance to look at the collected assortment of said medical tools, varying from needles to scalpels and scissors. The urge to leave the room and be anywhere else but there hit him both suddenly and forcefully.

“Know what,” Aiden said as he stood up in panic. “I’m feeling loads better. Really. So you just focus on doing your thing with him,” he said as he pointed his thumb in Hancock’s direction. “And I’ll just heal up on my own.”

His original plan was to walk out of the clinic and hunker down somewhere until the deepest cuts had closed. A good plan, that unfortunately went in total opposition to Hancock’s. Before Aiden managed to get away, Hancock crossed the floor and forced Aiden down in the chair.

“Sit,” Hancock barked, physically holding Aiden put.

“Sitting,” Aiden parroted after seeing the glare the mayor aimed at him, even going so far as to even keep on sitting after Hancock had walked back to stand by the doorway, probably to secure the exit and prohibiting any frightened ex-raiders to leave the room.

Sitting on a spinning chair, Aiden was turned to face the opposite way from Selah, as she started to remove the shredded armor by unfastening the clasps.

“Sir,” Selah addressed Aiden, as he winced away from her prying hands. “I need you to sit still.”

“Don’t poke me then,” Aiden complained.

The Ghoul once again approached, helping her to pull Aiden out of the ruined armor. Though with a lot more force than the compassionate female had used.

“Owowowow!” Aiden complained trying to get up from the stool again, but was promptly pushed down by the mayor. This time, Hancock chose to hover close by should Aiden get any more great ideas, like trying to get out of the medical equivalence of a torture chamber.

Aiden heard Selah dip a washcloth in the water, wringing any excess water from the cloth, before applying it to Aiden’s back.

“Oooooow! Fuck that stings!” Aiden exclaimed.

“I know, but it still needs to be done,” she responded. “Some of your wounds have started to heal and I need to pull the fabric off. It might sting, but it is better than me tearing your wounds open again.”

Selah re-wet the cloth before pressing it to his back in a slightly different location.

Hissing, Aiden had a better idea. “How ‘bout you don’t?” he pushed out, trying to grit his teeth to better deal with the pain, still entertaining the idea of running out of there, despite the mayor’s intimidating presence.

“Is there somethin’ you can give him?” Hancock asked the female.

“We’re a bit short on Med-X, though that would be the recommended treatment,” Selah said, trying to make herself heard over Aiden’s moaning.

“No worries,” Hancock said, pulling out a syringe from his inner pocket. While Aiden would have loved to see Selah’s reaction to that, he was soon too busy with the feeling of numbness that followed the short sting in his neck, to worry about anyone else.

“Ohhhhkay. I’m fine now. Fine. Fine,” Aiden rambled.

The rest of the procedure went without further trouble, and while Aiden could feel the prick of a sewing needle from time to time, it was not enough of a bother for it to warrant a reaction.

“‘s not like I was the only one who’s hurt,” Aiden complained when Hancock told Selah to finish up with Aiden before attending to his injuries.

“Yeah, sure. But I don’t have claw marks the depth of my thumbnail down my back.”

“Can’t be that bad,” said Aiden, starting to feel the Med-X numbness wear off.

_ Fuck. I’m guessing that means the Buffout’s gonna go the same way soon. _

Selah’s silence was a clear message in itself. Aiden had seen the back of his chest piece, or what was left of it, with its five distinct cuts that actually split the armor in pieces. Despite having seen armor in worse condition after a skirmish, the fact that he had worn that was actually quite disturbing.

_ No more one-on-one Deathclaw fights. Ever. And I just had the thing repaired as well. _

Aiden could tell the moment that his latest dose of Buffouts ran out of juice. The creeping tiredness that had been lurking just around the corner suddenly came back in force, slowly draining all of his remaining energy. While previously having felt a slight burn in his muscles, a deep ache settled in the tissue and was soon the only thing he could focus on. He might have felt a bit tired before when the adrenaline left his body, but the overall feeling of weakness that settled first in his limbs and then in his chest, were uncomparable. Suddenly, just breathing felt taxing and unbelievably tiring.

“You alright there, Aiden?” Hancock asked in a deeply concerned voice, telling Aiden all he needed to know if the way he was feeling was visible from the outside.

Selah thankfully saved him from having to answer Hancock’s query.

“I’m just about done. Just let me dress the wounds and you’ll be good to go,” she said, putting down whatever tools she had been using on the tray.

_ If I can walk, that is. _

Aiden kept his eyes locked on the floor, trying to determine whether his legs would actually carry him once the healer had finished.

“There we go. Now, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

Aiden shook his head to clear his head from the Med-X haze, and moved to get up, preparing himself for the worst.

Hancock, however, had either anticipated Aiden’s exhaustion, or acted proactively.

“Come here,” he said, taking Aiden’s arm and lifting it over his shoulder, carrying the brunt of Aiden’s weight as they made it towards the door.

“Wait, I still need to examine you, sir,” Selah objected as Hancock and Aiden was about to leave.

“Don’t worry,” Hancock replied over his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve put this one in a bunk.”

Making their way slowly across the settlement, they were directed towards their assigned accommodation. Once they reached the patched pre-war house, Hancock used his foot to kick the door open, and his heel to close it again behind them.

“There we go,” he said as he deposited Aiden on the bed. Aiden did not even possess the energy to take off his shoes, much less pull the blankets out from under him. “Damn, not only are you heavy,” Hancock said as he helped to reposition Aiden properly in the bed, removing his boots before tucking his legs underneath the comforter. “You look like hell as well.”

Aiden wanted to growl a nasty comeback for the statement, but had barely enough energy to push out a small  _ grrr _ .

“And this is why I stick to recreational use. It sucks, but you’ll feel better after some real rest.”

Hancock kissed Aiden’s forehead.

“Shout if you need me. Unfortunately, I got a date with the doctor, and I don’t wanna get in trouble with someone holding a knife for a living.”

Aiden groaned in response, but could not bring himself to do much more than that.

Hancock opened the door. “Sleep tight,” he said, and closed it behind him.

The most tempting aspect was that he could still reach the Buffouts he had gotten from Preston, and he knew that just a small shot would alleviate both the pain and the tiredness.

_ Hancock won’t know, will he? _

Of course he would. Hancock was not blind, and probably had more experience watching people getting high than Aiden had of watching people getting dead drunk. As much as he wanted to remove the symptoms, he equally dreaded Hancock’s reaction should he walk in and see him intoxicated.

Sighing, Aiden tried to catch some semblance of rest, while his body ached like nothing else.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this chapter way too long now. And since I have the flu, I figured, what better time to post it? XD
> 
> I have a handful of other chapters almost ready for the light of day, so my updating schedule might be a bit atypically frequent for the next couple of days. Thanks again for staying with me! <3
> 
> Happy reads!

“Time to get up, sunshine,” Hancock whispered softly into Aiden’s hair.

Lazily opening his eyes, he quickly decided against Hancock’s proposal and closed his eyes again.

“You feelin’ alright?” Hancock’s worried voice broke through Aiden’s sleep-heavy haze.

Aiden groaned and shook his head, before burying his face in the bedding. His body was still aching just as much, if not more, than yesterday; his muscles loudly objecting to the abuse he had brought upon them. His back felt like it had been battered by a Mirelurk and his head pounded like he had just woken up from a three day binge. ‘Alright’ was not how he would describe his current physical condition.

He felt Hancock reposition himself on the bed, but cared little for anything that had nothing to do with either resting or sleeping. That was until he felt hands working their way up the back of his thigh.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Aiden complained into the pillow.

“That bad, huh?” Hancock said, not relenting in his attempt to loosen up the muscles in his legs.

“Worse,” Aiden replied, trying to bite his tongue against the bittersweet feeling of having Hancock’s hands work out some of the tension in his legs. At the moment, perhaps more bitter than sweet. “Maybe, you -- ow, ow -- shouldn’t -- ow! -- do that.”

“It’s gonna get worse before it gets better,” Hancock replied, though was noticeably lighter on his hand when he continued. Not that it mattered to Aiden.

“Ooow! Don’t care,” Aiden said, tensing up despite doing his best to try to relax.

“I’m barely using any force.”

“My legs and I disagree,” Aiden muttered, subtly trying to move away from Hancock’s questing hands. It did nothing to discourage the mayor who just compensated by moving closer.

“Christ,” Hancock muttered. “You have more knots running along your hamstrings than a fishing net has holes. I think you’re gonna have a hard time getting outta bed unless we do something about it,” he reasoned, and grabbed onto Aiden’s ankle when he got tired of his wriggling.

“Who said anything ‘bout getting out of bed?” Aiden opposed. In all seriousness, he agreed with Hancock’s conclusion that it would be difficult for him to move as long as his legs hurt making even the slightest of movements, but he did not agree with the Ghoul’s solution of mangling his muscles into compliance.

“I did, and you will,” Hancock responded resolutely, though still mindful as he attempted to hold Aiden in place without hurting him.  _ Trying _ being the operative word. “Stop squirming.”

“How ‘bout we switch positions and we’ll see how much you like being kneaded. OOW! Fuck, stop it!”

Recoiling from Hancock, Aiden tried to retaliate for the unnecessarily harsh treatment by kicking away the hands. Lifting his leg to deal out his punishment, Aiden’s thigh felt as if it had been pierced with a glowing stake. Gasping, Aiden quickly tried to relax, letting his leg fall down into the bed with a heavy “thump”, before writhing in agony.

“Gonna try that again?” Hancock derided, none too sympathetic to Aiden’s self-inflicted pain.

Aiden moaned into the pillow and shook his head in negative, still feeling the lingering effects of one of the worst decisions he had made as of late. Even worse, the action had done nothing to deter Hancock as he once more held his ankle in one hand while trying to loosen up the muscles at the back of his thigh. The ex-raider whined but did nothing else to halt his actions.

“So,” Hancock began. “I hear you and Sole’s been getting along.”

Trying his best to listen to what Hancock was saying rather than groaning due to what he was doing, Aiden grunted out a muffled ‘go on’.

“Anything you wish to comment on?”

Turning his head up from the pillow, Aiden gave Hancock a disbelieving look. “What? I’m not allowed to  _ talk _ to people?”

It soon became obvious that was not what the mayor was aiming at, if not for the frustrated groan, then the pleading look he sent in his direction would have been an obvious tell. “That’s not what I’m saying. He just hinted that you might want to talk to me about somethin’.”

Aiden rested his head on his arms, though continued to look in the Ghoul’s direction. “Nothing important. He just recommended me to get a new hobby.”

The mayor nodded as he kept his eyes locked on his task, though glanced up to Aiden before answering. “Want some help with that?”

Did he want help with it? Perhaps. Besides trailing after Hancock like a broken mongrel, Aiden had little inspiration as to what to do with himself, or with his time.

“Maybe,” he answered indecisively. “At least give me something to do besides reading and drinking when we’re back at the State House.”

“Sure,” Hancock readily agreed. “We’ll find something for you to do. Got any skills that could help ya?”

“Beyond being  _ really _ good at raiding, murder and extortion? Sorry, got nothing.”

“Hilarious,” the mayor deadpanned.

“I try my best. OW! What was that for?”

“I slipped,” Hancock answered unapologetic.

“So mean,” Aiden commented, turning away from Hancock, allowing him to keep on massaging life into his stiff limbs. Beside the occasional twinge when those hands moved on to find a new point to knead, Aiden had to admit that it was actually starting to feel a bit better. “You know, you’re kinda good at that.”

He heard more than saw Hancock’s answering scoff. “Yet you do nothing but complain for fifteen minutes.”

“Well, it still hurts. But I wouldn’t mind trying it out on muscles that aren’t sore to the point of trashed.”

The mayor hummed in agreement. “I wouldn’t mind handing out a whole body massage. Though that would require you to be naked.”

Aiden groaned into the pillow for an entirely different reason when he felt himself harden at the suggestion. Once he felt confident enough that the blush had settled, he could not help but grouse at Hancock’s, at times, single-minded focus on eroticism.

“That all you think about?” Aiden questioned accusingly.

“No,” the mayor immediately denied. “But your ass do inspire some rather impure thoughts.”

Aiden snorted, glancing in amusement at the Ghoul over his shoulder. “Not when you’re busy pressing the barrel of a gun to my back, it don’t.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hancock replied with an almost nostalgic expression.

Aiden doubted it. “ _ Kinda _ sure I would’ve noticed being shoved up against the wall by a horny mayor, and not threatened to be murdered by the very same one,” he countered.

“And I’m kinda sure you threw a bucket of piss my way before we had the time to do anything.”

Scoffing, Aiden kept his silence for a minute, allowing Hancock to work uninterrupted. Thinking back on how they first met, Aiden could not help but wonder if the mayor actually did admire his behind to the extent that he was too distracted to observe what Aiden was doing. While the thought was rather absurd, Hancock’s expression told another story.

”Did you seriously check out my ass while holding me at gunpoint?” Aiden asked, watching Hancock’s expression carefully.

“It’s a nice ass,” Hancock defended himself.

Huffing out a laugh, Aiden shook his head in wonderment. “No wonder I could get away so easily.”

The Ghoul hummed in acknowledgement but still chose to defend himself. “Didn’t think anyone could run that fast with their pants down.”

“Yeah, well, with the right kind of encouragement…” Aiden drawled.

Hancock continued to work his magic down the back of his legs in comfortable silence, which Aiden begrudgingly allowed, until he reached the juncture of his calf.

“OW!” Aiden yowled, snatching his leg back. Staring accusingly at the mayor, the easy mood between them was broken, replaced with annoyance and irritation. ”I thought you said you were gonna go easy!”

Hancock merely sighed, reaching for Aiden’s leg again. “I am, now stop moving around.”

Pulling back Aiden’s leg again, Hancock immediately went for the same spot, pressing down his agile fingers into the knot to ease it out, as agony raced through Aiden’s leg.

“Fuck! Ow, ow, OW! STOP!”

“Quit your whining. This is no worse than getting shot, and I bet my ass at least some of those scars you carry are remnants of bullets.”

He was not wrong. But there was a difference of getting shot during battle when adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and lying in bed with nothing to distract him from the pain. Besides, while not in abundance, a Stimpack applied to a wound quickly numbed the afflicted area, to the degree that he could at least go on fighting without a major limb.

“Know what? How ‘bout I shoot you in the leg and we compare who of us screams the loudest when I push my fingers into the bullet hole, huh?” Aiden vexed, and was immediately chastened. “OOOW! Quit punishing me!”

“I slipped, again. What have I said about acting like a Raider?”

“That’s no excuse to abuse me! What I ever do to you?”

“This ain’t about --”

“Then stop acting like I’ve done you wrong.”

Hancock released Aiden’s legs with a sigh. “Kid, we need to talk.”

_ Oh-oh. That sounds like the prelude to a very non-constructive conversation. _

“Why?” Aiden asked, already feeling defensive.

“Because we ain’t communicating. Let me be upfront with you. I like you. I like the way you don’t take my shit, and you give as good as you get. But this thing we’re doing?” Hancock said, pointing between himself and Aiden. “That’s not good for either of us.”

_ This  _ thing _? The fuck does he mean by that? _

“You’re the one that’s acting like you don’t care.”

“Like I don’t -- you still angry ‘bout Holly? ‘cause I told you -- never mind.  _ This _ is what I’m talking about.”

“If that’s how you feel, maybe you should go back to  _ Holly-Dolly _ ,” Aiden spat.

“Now you’re just provoking me,” Hancock commented.

“Hey, I’m just living up to your expectations,” Aiden retorted, turning his head so that he no longer held eye contact with the mayor.

“Aiden, stop doing that,” Hancock pressed.

“Stop  _ what _ ?” Aiden replied, fully aware he sounded like a kid, but unable to hold back the words.

Aiden felt a hand grab onto at his hip and forcefully turn him onto his back, before he was face-to-face with the solemn mayor.

“Stop doing your  _ damnedest _ to _ piss me off _ .”

While Aiden admittedly had done little to avoid the conflict, the accusation that he was only doing it to get a rise out of the Ghoul, sat poorly with him. Whether or not he initially wanted to aggravate Hancock was besides the matter. Being pointed out as the sole offender of the dispute felt more than a little unfair.

“ _ I’m  _ pissing  _ you _ off? You’re the one that accused me of wanting to suck a guy off just ‘cause we used to know each other, when you’re the one that hooked up with some fucking broad at a moment's notice to get back at me. And now you’re claiming  _ I’m _ the one pushing your buttons? Fuck off, Hancock.”

The Ghoul groaned. “I thought we went over this back at the Slog. I don’t  _ care _ ‘bout Holly. The  _ hell’s _ your problem?”

Aiden did not know where the words came from, or why he spoke them. No, that was a lie. He knew just how precarious his subsistence in Goodneighbor was. And although this was an old fight, and Hancock had all but ensured him that he could stay as long as he wished to back at the Slog, each time Hancock tried to dig into that old wound, Aiden’s own deep-rooted fears triggered him to roar back. Fight, attack,  _ wound _ . Hit harder than the opposition hit him. Whether it was fear or anger that primarily fueled his rage, the end results would still be the same.

Clenching his hands to fists, Aiden all but screamed in Hancock’s face. “My problem is that you’re a two-faced asshole that’s just as likely to throw me out as you are to fuck me! And I’m not up for having you play around and yanking my chain like I’m your  _ fucking _ toy!”

Hancock opened his mouth to respond but shut it with a click of teeth. The silence was deafening, allowing Aiden just enough time to think over what he had just said. It only took seconds for Aiden to regret it.

“I didn’t --” Aiden began, but Hancock was already off the bed.

Without a word, Hancock left the room, and moments later, Aiden heard the front door close. He was unsure if it would have been better or worse if Hancock had slammed the door shut on his way out.

“You fucking did it this time,” Aiden bemoaned out loud, covering his eyes with his arm.

He laid in bed for a few more minutes, hoping to hear Hancock come back. When it became certain that the mayor was unlikely to return anytime soon, Aiden tried to get out of bed. The pain was still prominent, but Hancock’s massage had actually helped; the soreness was tremendously less than what it had been when he woke up. Which made him feel even worse for how he went off at him. 

While the tender muscles still protested bearing his weight, he was still able to move around. The almost aching tiredness was still there, but it was not enough to keep him in bed. Supporting himself on the bed frame, Aiden pulled himself up to a standing position, moving slowly through the house and to the door with the intent to go find the mayor and apologise. While some parts of what was said were somewhat accurate to how he felt, Aiden conceded that Hancock did not deserve to have  _ that _ particular accusation thrown in his face.

 


	38. Chapter 38

Opening the door to the old house, his retinas were immediately assaulted with the sharp light of the midday sun, temporarily blinding him where he stood on the precipice of his and Hancock’s shared quarters. As soon as he would get used to the outdoor light, Aiden vowed to quickly find Hancock and apologise for once again opening his mouth without thinking.

It was with hope and determination that the ex-raider took his first tentative steps out of the doorway and into the colony, setting out to locate where Hancock had run off to. It should not be too hard to find the missing Ghoul in a settlement of this size.

_ Could it? _

After almost an hour of searching up and down the only street in town, and still with no trace of the mayor, Aiden was forced to reconsider his initial assumption. His legs had already started to shake due to the exertion, and he would soon have to sit down or risk collapsing in the middle of the road; a possibility that felt like it had become a regular occurrence at this point.

Groaning, Aiden all but collapsed on the porch of the closest house, leaning his head back on the outer wall. Breathing a sigh of relief, Aiden used the pause to observe his surroundings.

The settlement had noticeably less traffic compared to County Crossing, despite the big plot of land on which it rested. And while it was not as tranquil as the Slog, it was still peaceful. If the area had been closer to Boston, Aiden had no doubt that the small town would have been a much more popular location to settle down. Though the not-so-insignificant distance to the trading hubs of Boston made this place far too remote for any sensible people to make it their home. Aiden supposed that the Vaultie had a part in the reason why this settlement was populated at all.

However, the remoteness could be a blessing in itself.

_ Not too many Raiders in these areas, if I recall correctly. _

While he had planned to take a short break before continuing with his search, fatigue beckoned, and it was not long before Aiden succumbed to the temptation and closed his eyes. Had he not felt so completely vulnerable out in the open, he might have fallen asleep where he rested. He was certainly tired enough for it to be plausible. Just listening to the sounds of the settlement was relaxing in itself; some Brahmin grazing on dried old grass, a couple of people talking about nothing as they cultivated the lands, another settler stirring an old pot. It was… soothing. Like a balm on his troubled mind. Having lived in downtown Boston for the last couple of years, Aiden could not believe how quickly the sound of bullets whining past him had become the natural background noise to his everyday life.

Of all the noises around him, the only sound he heard that could be considered somewhat grating was the hammering of sheet metal, originating from somewhere out of sight. Aiden laboriously pulled himself up from the porch with the aim of finding either Hancock or, at the very least, the source of that sound.

Turning a corner, Aiden at least found one familiar face, although not the one he was looking for.

“Hey there,” the Minutemen Lieutenant greeted before reaching for another few nails to hammer a new panel to the worn and torn facade. “Didn’t expect to see you up and about for some time.”

Aiden shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, well…” he trailed off, getting distracted by what the other was doing.

Humming noncommittally to Aiden’s reply, the Minuteman pinned the sheet to the wall with a handful of hits with his hammer, before dusting himself off. “That will have to do. Sorry for that. Work is never quite done. I guess you know how it is.”

Aiden would have liked to agree with him, but it would have felt like a lie. Instead he chose to comment on the supposed lack of courtesy. “I’m not the social type, so it’s fine.”

That apparently brought a smile the male’s face before he shook his head. “Have you’ve gotten anything to eat? I think Marcy said something about cooking up some Mirelurk. I’m guessing you haven’t had much to eat since fighting off that Deathclaw?”

The memory of yesterday made a shiver travel down Aiden’s back. “Not very hungry to be honest. Actually I was looking for Hancock. You know, tall Ghoul, fancy red coat and a tricorn?”

Preston scoffed. “Yeah, I know him, that man is hard to miss. Though I haven’t seen him since this morning. The general usually keeps tabs on most people in the settlement. Perhaps you could ask him?”

That piece of information made Aiden’s eyebrows raise to his hairline. “Vaultie? I thought he was busy having a near death experience after yesterday’s skirmish.”

“He did,” Preston confirmed a bit hesitant. “The doctor fed him enough Stims to wake the dead. Last time I saw, he was busy ignoring the doctor’s recommendations in his workshop. That’s my best bet.”

“Thanks,” Aiden said and turned to leave. Before taking more than a step, he realised he never properly thanked the Minuteman for helping him yesterday. “And thanks for the save yesterday.”

“If you’re speaking of the Deathclaw, don’t mention it. As for the drugs, I’d rather you not thank me for it,” he said in all seriousness.

Aiden winced at the tone the Minuteman used, but nodded his accession to the request before parting.

Although there were several workshops in the settlement, Preston had nodded him in the direction of a specific one. Upon entering, he saw the Vaultie leant over the workbench, deep in concentration. If Aiden had walked past the building without knowing who was occupying the place, he would not have recognised the vault-dweller, considering he lacked his signature outfit.

“This where you’re hiding?” Aiden said as he entered, causing Nate to look over his shoulder at the new arrival.

As the Vaultie’s eyes met Aiden’s, a small tired smile spread on his face. While seemingly in much better health than when the ex-raider had last seen the vault-dweller, the man still looked bruised and haggard. ”Well, if it isn’t our resident Deathclaw hunter.”

“I think you’re confusing me with your second in command,  _ General _ .”

The Vaultie just shook his head in humour and turned back to his project. It was not a dismissal, so Aiden walked closer to the workbench. “Whatcha buildin’?”

“ _ Repairing _ ,” Nate corrected him. “I have about 12 non-functioning turrets that either needs new gears, an oil change, a complete cable overhaul, or a new casing. And while I’d rather build something that won’t get immediately trashed by wildlife or marauders, I don’t have the materials here to do more than patch up a defensive system that  _ obviously isn’t working _ .” The Vaultie ended his rant with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, didn’t mean to load that off on you. I guess this whole,” he interrupted himself, waving his hand in the air while seemingly trying to find a word that would encompass the ordeal. “This, this  _ thing _ , took out its toll out on me after all.”

Aiden shrugged. “No worries. I heard they tried to replace your blood with Stims. That would make anyone cranky.”

“Perhaps,” Nate reflected. “And I’m guessing you didn’t just stop by to hear me complain.”

While Nate was correct in his assumption, thinking on someone else’s problems for a change actually felt like a relief.

“Nah, I don’t mind it. Though I’m surprised you didn’t drag me out to hold your hammer.”

The Vaultie huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I figured you could use the rest. Hancock said you were looking a little worse for wear after yesterday’s journey.”

_ He’s one to talk. _

“I’m fine,” Aiden answered, realising that the lie was probably as obvious to the currently not-so-blue-clad male as it sounded in his own ears.

“Would Hancock agree with that sentiment?” Nate asked, easily reading through the ex-raider’s evasion and prodding at a sore spot all at once.

Aiden crossed his arms and scoffed. “He’d have to make an appearance first to voice any  _ opinions _ .”

That seemed to surprise the Vaultie, if his expression was anything to go by. “I thought he went to check up on you?”

“He did,” Aiden admitted. “And then he left.”

With a look of absolute defeat, Nate sighed. “Great, more drama. How do you guys survive living together under the same roof in the State House?”

The Vaultie actually had a point. Scratching the back of his head in discomfort, Aiden glancing in the opposite direction of the Vaultie. “Less distractions, maybe,” Aiden surmised. “So, I’m taking you haven’t seen him in a while then.”

“Not since this morning.”

_ Great. Fucking great. Where the fuck’s he hiding then? _

“Never mind then.” Aiden turned to leave, but before he had gotten very far, he lost all footing as the floor suddenly went unstable beneath his feet. Before he could collide with the ground, Nate had already caught him.

“How about we get you seated before you keel over?”

Helping Aiden to a backless plastic chair, Nate went about to find something for him to drink and eat, before leaning himself on the workbench, the broken turrets temporarily forgotten.

“Better?” he asked once Aiden had finished his small meal.

“Still tired, but yeah.”

“Good. Look, I could go find Hancock for you.”

Aiden was about to decline the offer, when a voice in the doorway did it for him.

“No need,” Hancock interjected, looking at Aiden with a mixture of worried anger and disappointment. “Thought you said that ya weren’t gonna leave bed.”

As happy as Aiden was to see the Ghoul alive and well, the words angered him too much to go unanswered. “How ‘bout you piss off again if you’re gonna be a fucking dick ‘bout it,” Aiden replied as a greeting.

“If you’re going to have a fight, you’re not having it in my workshop,” Nate interjected, clearly marking where he stood in the conflict: outside of it.

“Don’t worry, Sole. We’ll get out of your hair,” Hancock placated the Vaultie, before making his way over to Aiden. Aiden, who in turn was feeling less than comforted by the way Hancock was swiftly and purposefully moving towards him. Once in front, Aiden fully expected the mayor to wrestle him out of the chair, and was thoroughly surprised when he instead was offered a hand to help get himself up.

As benign the gesture was, looking up at the mayor, Aiden realised that refusing the aid could very well end up like he had initially expected. Not bothering thanking for the supposed help, Aiden took the hand to get up and was about to withdraw it, when those fingers tightened their hold.

“Don’t overdo it,” Hancock threw over his shoulder to Sole as they walked towards the exit.

Aiden never heard the Vaultie’s reply.

“You know,” Aiden began as soon as he believed they were out of earshot, just as he was partly dragged across the settlement. “If you wanted to hold hands, maybe you shouldn’t try to  _ break min _ e.”

Hancock did not bother to acknowledge Aiden’s attempt to vex him, as he purposefully kept them moving in the direction of the house in which they were lodging. In fact, the Ghoul kept his silence, even after they arrived at their destination.

“Like speaking to a wall. Nice. I always wondered what it was like hanging around with someone that refused to talk to me,” Aiden kept bating as they walked through the house into the bedroom. The comment, again, received no acknowledgement as Hancock pushed Aiden down in the bed, janking the sheets up and leaving the room.

“If this is part of your overprotective side, then go bother Vaultie instead!” Aiden shouted from bed, hearing Hancock rummage around in the cupboards in the main room.

While he wanted to get up out of bed, he was much too mindful of the consequences of going against Hancock to actually try and leave. He could wait until Hancock left again, as doing it before then, and with Hancock being like he was, would more than likely end up with him being shoved right back down. Listening for the moment Hancock was going to make his exit, Aiden was surprised when he instead showed up in the doorway.

“Have ya eaten?” Hancock asked, as if Aiden had not just spent their entire time back trying to insult him.

He was speechless. And thoroughly confused. “Not hungry,” Aiden replied, feeling all energy drain out of him with that simple response.

“That’s bullshit, and not what I asked.”

As upsetting as Hancock’s behaviour was, Aiden could no longer feed the anger that had been simmering since Hancock walked into Vaultie’s workshop. Instead, Aiden turned his back to the doorway, hoping to be left alone again. “Don’t care what you think.”

He did not hear when Hancock left the room, but he heard the Ghoul once again opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen area. Eventually, the sounds quieted down as Hancock returned to the bedroom.

“Here,” the mayor said whilst holding out a bowl towards Aiden.

“Don’t want it,” Aiden replied, tempted to just knock the bowl out of his hands.

The answer obviously frustrated Hancock, but he did nothing else than place the food on the side table before seating himself on the bed next to Aiden.

“You need to eat.”

“Told you, I’m not hungry. And I’m not eating just to make you happy.”

Hancock sighed before swearing under his breath. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I didn’t mean to threaten you by implying that your stay in Goodneighbor was conditional. I don’t think that you’re ambiguous in your loyalties, and I don’t see you as just a good lay. Now, will ya  _ please just eat _ ?”

“And you think  _ that _ would make me feel  _ better _ ?” Aiden asked incredulously.

“No, I know that’s not gonna fix things. I just need you to eat, and then we can talk. Or you talk and I listen. Whatever you want.”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

Hancock took his time, but eventually replied with obvious reluctance. “If that makes you eat, then I’ll leave.”

Aiden was unsure as to what to think of that, and much less how to respond. Before he came up with a reply, Hancock had already continued. “If you want to leave Goodneighbor, I’ll arrange for that as well. I don’t want you to think --”

“So your whole ‘not gonna throw you out’ spiel was as much  _ bull _ as it sounded like, then?” Aiden asked angrily, feeling betrayed and deceived.

“I’m not  _ throwing you out _ . I want you there, believe me. But if you don’t want anything to do with me I’m not forcing you to stay. I’m not that cruel.”

It felt as if his insides were being carved out. With a few words, Aiden could stop this relationship, end it. Permanently.

“I -- I don’t want to leave,” Aiden replied quietly.

The mayor’s shoulders seemed to lose some of the tension. “Good. Now that that’s out of the way, would you consider eating  _ something _ ?”

Aiden pushed himself up on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, grabbing the bowl Hancock had placed on the sideboard, before ingesting the canned soup he had been served. During the time the ex-raider was eating, Hancock sat quiet on the bed next to him, patiently waiting for Aiden to finish his meal.

“Now what?” Aiden asked when Hancock did not take the initiative to start the conversation once he was sated.

“Now we talk,” Hancock answered, but made no effort to actually start talking.

“About…?” Aiden asked once the silence became to much.

“Whatever you want.”

“Heard there’s going to be rain,” Aiden tried to lighten the rather pressing atmosphere between them.

Hancock sighed. “If you wanna talk about the weather, fine. But I was hoping we could clear the air of a few misconceptions.”

“Like…?” Aiden fished.

“Firstly, I’m gonna make this real clear to you.  _ For the last time _ , I’m not gonna throw you out at the first sign of trouble. I’m sorry that I lost my temper and threatened you with it, but it won’t happen again. So can we just leave that behind?”

Aiden nodded.

“Good. And secondly, I’m not the type of Ghoul to walk out on a good thing. I’m not touring around anymore, and I’m not gonna go behind your back and hurt you.”

As good as it sounded, Aiden was not entirely convinced the mayor of Goodneighbor was beneath booting. “And how long’s that going to last,” he asked derisively, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hancock paused. ”I told ya, you don’t need to --”

“You just don’t get it,” Aiden stated. “I mean, you might  _ think _ this is what you want, but let’s be realistic here. I spent the last 7 years of my life extorting, beating the crap out of, and-or murdering the very people you say you want to protect. That won’t go away, no matter what you feel or  _ think  _ you feel.”

Aiden watched Hancock for any sign of repulsion but could not find any. The only thing he saw was a man quietly urging him to keep talking.

“So,” Aiden answered the silent request. “Sooner or later I’m probably going to do something stupid, and you’ll be more than fed up with me than you already are. Then what? Will you still uphold your end of the bargain?” Aiden asked.

“Yeah,” Hancock’s answer came easily. “I will. Know why? ‘Cause I trust you. I trust that you won’t intentionally do something to fuck things up or piss me off. If it happens, we’ll walk that road when it comes.”

The words made Aiden stomach clench in unnamed guilt. “It’s misplaced.”

“I don’t think it is. What’s this really about, Aiden?”

The ex-raider shook his head. “No, it’s just… I’m just not, a very good person.”

“You’re not as bad as you think, kid,” Hancock refuted.

“If you’d know about half of the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t give me that bullshit,” Aiden mumbled.

“That’s behind you, ain’t it? Or should I start looking for dead bodies in Goodneighbor?”

Despite his rather glum mood, Aiden could not help to snort at the ridiculousness of that statement. “Like you wouldn’t have heard of it if that were the case.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Hancock replied. “Look, I know it ain’t always easy for you to let down your guard, but you’re trying, and that’s what counts. I get it that trust doesn't come easily to you. While I was hoping that that had started to change, I guess I just hafta work harder for it.”

Aiden could not explain the flutter in his chest. Perhaps something he ate recently disagreed with him. Perhaps, despite popular belief, canned food does go bad after 200 years? 

“I’m --,” Aiden began, but it was as if his mouth refused to form those two words that would show how much he regretted having spoken without thinking.  _ Again _ .

_ How fucking difficult is it to just say ‘sorry’? Just fucking spit it out! _

Before Aiden had a chance to gather courage to utter the simple apology, Hancock interrupted him. “It’s fine,” he replied to the unspoken apology, or Aiden’s complete inability to, at times, apologise for things he said. “Just talk to me.”

“I’ll… try,” Aiden said, pensive of making promises he would not be able to keep.

 

“All I ask.”


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one (together with the last two) was originally one chapter. But since it became waaaay too long (and otherwise all over the place), I decided to split them up. Though, as a result, this will a bit shorter than the others. Though I have another one close to finished in the pipeline. I hope not to keep you waiting too long. <3

Aiden woke up slowly, to another morning of pain. Wincing due to the slightest movement, even turning his head into the pillow to scream was enough for him to wish for unconsciousness.

“You  _ still _ feelin’ low?” Hancock asked from the door.

“Don’t fucking antagonise me first thing in the morning,” Aiden grumbled as he was trying to find a position that would not cause agony to course through him.

“Not trying to poke at ya. But it’s kinda difficult to stand by while you’re gagging yourself on the beddings.”

Aiden just groaned in response.

“I could do what I did to ya yesterday,” Hancock offered. Or  _ threatened _ .

The ex-raider refused to call it a whimper, but the thought of having Hancock once more mangle his muscles had very little appeal. “Please don’t.”

“Got any better ideas?” Hancock asked defensively.

“Let me pass out and pretend I never woke up,” Aiden pleaded.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

It was difficult to argue when his body kept echoing ‘pain, pain, pain’ in time with his heart beat. “Then  _ please _ just,  _ fuck off _ .”

Hearing the shuffling of clothes, Aiden should have been prepared for when Hancock chose to sit down on the bed, but it was the change in weight that made him realise that the mayor would not take no for an answer. The movement jerked his already sore body to move in directions it did not want to go. “No, no, no, no, please no…”

“Don’t be difficult,” Hancock admonished, either not hearing Aiden’s plea or more probably ignoring it, before grabbing on to Aiden’s ankle. It caused a jolt to travel through him. 

Shouting in pain, Aiden desperately tried to crawl away from those hands that were causing his nerves to flare up. “Stop, stop, stop, no, I don’t --  _ please _ no!”

To Aiden’s immense relief, Hancock released his grip, allowing him to pull himself as far away from the man as possible.

“Fine,” the mayor sighed. “I’ll leave you alone. Just, get some rest and I’ll check up on you later.”

With that, Hancock left the bedroom and Aiden to his own; his departure announced by the closing of the front door. Taking a breath of relief, Aiden once more tried to find a position that would not aggravate his abused body.

_ Tired and fucking broken - this is not how I figured I’d spend my time out on the road. _

While Aiden learned to cope, the pain did not go away. In fact, it felt like it got worse the longer he waited. Or the longer Aiden focused on it as he lay in bed.

“Just go away, just go away,” Aiden started murmuring, hoping that his inquire would somehow cause the discomfort to lessen, or better yet, even disappear. When that did not happen, to no surprise of Aiden, he got frantic.

Turning to lie on his back, he clawed his fingers into the mattress in an attempt not scream. Aiden had no doubt that if he would make too much noise, it would call Hancock back prematurely. And with his presence, the threat of having his muscles pummeled into compliance would return. Just the mere thought of it made his legs hurt even more.

“Come on,” Aiden began in anger, but quickly changed his tone when the sentiment caused his body to tense up. Turning back to his side, it laced his thigh in pain. Gritting his teeth, the ex-raider tried to quickly relax, hoping that it would alleviate the strain. A feat made so much harder by the pulsing torment that refused to go away.

Taking a couple of laboured breaths, he could not help but grunt his displeasure at his distress.

“Please,” he whimpered, begged, pleaded for some kind of reprieve from this situation.

The ache would not stop! He found no position that even remotely lessened the pressure on his muscles, and every time he moved, it got even worse. In the end, he did not know what to do.

“Please, make it stop,” Aiden prayed to no one, feeling panic overtaking his rational thought. “Please..!”

Aiden had a mind to call back Hancock to either knock him out, or in anyway possible, remove the pain. Perhaps injecting him with enough Med-X to knock out a Brahmin.

_ Or something similar... _

At the moment the idea hit him, he immediately remembered the small number of pills he kept in his pocket from when Preston had helped him out the other day.

With great effort, and not allowing himself to overthink his decision, Aiden painstakingly pulled two pills from the container, and slid them to his mouth before swallowing them dry. While the pain blissfully disappeared, he did not feel that rush of energy he had previously come to associate with the steroid. Looking at the pills he had left, a thought suddenly hit him.

_ Maybe just..? Oh fuck, this is so stupid. I know this is a bad idea. But. I just... _

Trying not to analyse why he did it, Aiden took another dose from the package and swallowed it. As the third dose started to have an effect, he felt his energy return, although much more slowly than it had previously. Suddenly it was so much easier to breathe, to move, to just be.

Despite the relief, Aiden could tell something was wrong, though he could not place what caused this discomfort. It was as if something was off, like the world tilted, or that he had put on his left shoe on his right foot. Although he was not able to pinpoint what it was, he did not feel as if he could drop the issue either.

Slipping out of bed, Aiden made his way into the bathroom. While mirrors were not overly common in Boston, the ex-raider had previously spotted a pre-war mirror that was hung above the sink in the old house. 

Walking up to the mirror, Aiden studied himself in the reflective (although dusty) surface. He just needed one look at himself with bloodshot eyes and pale skin, before he knew what was happening. The repercussion of his rather thoughtless move quickly coming back to haunt him, spelling his inevitable doom.

_ I’m fucking addicted. _

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flu's getting better, so the update frequency might go down a bit now. Though I'm working on having as many chapters as possible in the pipeline, so the wait should not be too long. At least the next chapter should be up somewhat soonish. The one after that needs some polishing before seeing the light of day.
> 
> In any case, thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> Edit: Sorry! I put the chapters in the wrong order! It's fixed now (I hope)

There are possibly a few things that are worse to kick than a bad habit. One of those things would undoubtedly be addiction ( _ unless you count the occasional chem as a bad habit _ ). Aiden had during his past seen Raiders get addicted to Psycho, Jet, or both, and half of them either accepted the addiction as being a part of them, keeping up with usage until it eventually killed them, or tried to cut-off until they got past it, or, again, died as a result of severe withdrawal symptoms. Quitting, as well as continuing, were both associated with their own sets of pros and cons, though one thing was for certain: if you find yourself addicted to any of the chems available on the market, chances are that you will not survive it.

_ Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck... _

Hitting the wall next the mirror, Aiden took a deep breath to try to calm himself.

Though none of his previous associates, that he could remember at least, had actually overdone or overused Buffout. Firstly, the pills were not that common: discovering a bottle with more than a couple of them was a rare find. And the few pills you did find were not enough to actually find yourself addicted. Secondly, the steroids did not provide an actual high unlike Jet or Psycho, making it quite a useless drug for the thrill seeker. Thirdly, overdosing Buffout was a sure way to stop your heart, so there really was no need to keep pumping yourself full of the old steroids.

_ Unless you’re stupid enough to get addicted to it. _

Sighing and bemoaning his situation, Aiden felt like tearing his hair off.

Looking at the issue objectively, Aiden had two choices: try to kick the addiction, or keep using Buffout until it killed him. While one certainly had a fatal outcome, the other option could still not be considered safe by any means, not to mention being fraught with misery and agony.

If, and only  _ if _ , he were to choose to rid his dependence of the pill, now, or rather here (in Sanctuary), was not the appropriate place to do it. They would still need to travel back to Goodneighbor, and Aiden could not depend on Hancock to literally carry him there. So, if he still needed to take Buffout to be handle the trekk back, torturing himself with withdrawal before then seemed… impractical. Unnecessary, even. So the only logical option was to keep taking the pills, and then try to get clean once back at the State House.

Aiden dug through his pack for the twice damned bottle and poured out the remaining doses in his hand.

_ One, two, four… ten? Ten pills. Worst comes to worst, I’ll have to make do with singlet if we haven’t reached Goodneighbor by then. _

He would definitely be cutting it close. Preferably, he could do with at least another six if they got stuck somewhere along the way, something that had been known to happen with the vault-dweller, if MacCready was to be believed.

Pushing the bottle down to the deepest recesses of his backpack once he had grabbed and pocketed three of the pills, Aiden went back to the armchair he had occupied ever since he got out of bed.

_ Quitting outright doesn’t sound like a party, either. _

Cutting down, or phasing out seemed like a more plausible way for Aiden to get rid of the addiction. Though, with what was left and according to Aiden’s calculation, abatement might not even be possible. Despite being known as a liberal settlement when it came to chems and alcohol, Aiden was unsure where he would go (if not to Hancock) to acquire some. Going to Hancock would mean he had to come clean in regards to how he managed to get himself into this situation in the first place. Which he would rather avoid, well, forever if possible. Not only that, it was improbable that the Ghoul would give him the aid he actually wanted, rather than the aid the mayor would think he needed.

_ Speaking of Hancock…  _

While Aiden had been pondering his fate in the recesses of the living room, the mayor had stayed out for much longer than what could possibly be explained with a short walk. Meaning, he was probably trying to keep away to let Aiden get some sleep. Or allowing him time to cool down.

Unfortunately, sleeping was the last thing on Aiden’s mind.

With his thoughts spinning around in circles, he could not relax. As rest eluded him, the ex-raider tried to read. But even that was not enough of a distraction to keep his attention for long, leaving him brooding and alone with his thoughts.

With no way to tell time, Aiden had no idea how long he sat there in the dark. From the initial dose that put him in this situation, he guessed it had been more than a couple of hours. When the Buffout last wore off, Aiden had tried to experiment with lowering the dose, checking to see if one pill would be enough to sustain him. It was not. Neither did two doses.

It did not take a genius to realise that he was quickly building up a tolerance to the steroid, increasing his chances of accidentally killing himself sooner rather than later. While Aiden was young, the steroids still put a strain on his heart, not to mention what it did to the rest of his body. He did not feel versed enough in Buffout and its effects to know when he would be stepping into the territory of dose fatality, nor did he know anyone to ask. Or rather know anyone he  _ wanted _ to ask. The bottle in itself referred to a leaflet that came with the package, though that piece of paper is most probably lost in time.

Aiden heard the door shut in the hallway. He had not realised how long he had been sitting there, quietly worrying about his situation.

“Hey, what ya doin’ up? Feeling better?” Hancock asked, giving Aiden a kiss on the forehead before starting to rummage around in the kitchen area.

“Yeah, yeah. Slept a while and woke up feeling all better,” Aiden lied through his teeth. Had Hancock not been busy doing… whatever he was doing, Aiden would not have gotten away with it. Though Hancock did not appear to pay attention. Most likely, he did not think Aiden would have a reason to lie about something as simple as whether or not he had  _ slept _ .

“Good to hear,” he answered, not looking up from the cabinet he was searching.

_ What the fuck am I doing? _

Aiden tried to not feel guilty about it, though he had a sneaking suspicion it would not get better any time soon.

_ It’s just until we get back to Goodneighbor. Then everything will be back to normal. _

“What you lookin’ for?” Aiden asked, trying to push down the feeling of remorse and do his best to act like a normal person.

“Snacks, drinks, or whatever else they’ve put inside these cabinets,” Hancock answered, head deep inside whatever cabinet he was currently searching.

Aiden was at a loss of what to talk about with his thoughts running around in circles. “You’re looking perky. Did the Doctor give you happy pills?”

“Don’t be such a downer. I sprained my ankle jumping into the house. Nothing a little TLC couldn’t fix,” Hancock said, winking over his shoulder before returning to his search.

Any other day, Aiden would have blushed at that comment. Now, he just tried to not make a face, or any other gesture that would tip Hancock off that something was wrong.

“You’re acting weird,” Hancock commented ( _ dammit! _ ), though did not appear too concerned about Aiden’s behaviour. “Still tired?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Aiden gratefully adopted the excuse.

“You hungry?” Hancock continued to look through the kitchen.

“Why? You cook?” Aiden asked.

Hancock snorted. “Wasn’t planning on it. One of the settlers said she was gonna make stew out of the Deathclaw.”

“Yum,” Aiden commented semi sarcastically. “I love Revenge Stew.”

Hancock just gave Aiden an odd look over his shoulder. “Whatcha call it?”

Aiden tried to return the look, for no other reason than he could. “What?” he asked with feigned incredulousness. “Never heard of Revenge Stew? We used to do it all the time. Anytime a Mongrel or Mirelurk or Molerat managed to snatch a limb, we’d cook the animal up separately. Revenge Stew or Revenge Soup - ‘you tried to eat me, and now I’m eating you’. Though, unlike other variations of revenge, this dish is actually best served warm.”

Hancock chuckled. “Only you Aiden.”

“Hey, it’s a nice tradition,” Aiden argued. “The guy or gal who’d lost their limb usually got first serving.  _ And _ got to decide on the seasoning. I imagined it must’ve felt good, you know. Well, at least the food tasted great.”

“I bet”, Hancock agreed easily. “So, yeah,  _ Revenge Deathclaw Stew _ . Though without the mandatory loss of limb.”

“I’d cheer for that,” Aiden noted, lifting an imaginary glass to Hancock.

Hancock smiled and went back to raiding the cupboards.

“Yeah, and as soon as I find a beer, we can  _ actually _ cheer for it,” he said, opening the drawers one by one.

Aiden listened a while longer to Hancock’s Great Hunt For Booze Or Edibles, but the Ghoul eventually reached the last of the cabinets.

“You know, I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that Sole keeps his stash here somewhere in Sanctuary. Come on,” Hancock said. “We have a vault-dweller to catch.”

Hancock hurried out the door, fully expecting Aiden to catch up. Throwing on a jacket, he quickly stashed the last of his Buffouts in his pocket, and followed the extremely enthusiastic Ghoul on his manhunt (or more appropriately called booze hunt).

“Hey, Garvey,” Hancock hollered at Preston down the road. “You seen Sole anywhere?”

“The General?” Preston responded. “I think he said he was going to check on the water purifier.”

“Thanks!” Hancock waved, grabbing Aiden and pulling him along towards the river bank.

Just as Preston had said, Nate had situated himself next to the river, his hands deep into some partial piece of machinery, probably belonging to the huge purifier behind him. The other half had several, clearly recognisable, claw marks embedded in it, which definitely looked newer than the metal around them.

“Wow,” Aiden exclaimed. “Got to be the biggest purifier I’ve seen.”

“Yeah,” Nate said, not even lifting his eyes from what he was doing. “Too bad it’s not working.”

“What’s wrong with it? Well, besides the new decorative touch,” Aiden said, trying to peer over Nate’s shoulder to see what he was doing.

“Don’t know. But unless I fix it, we’ll need to use Vault 111:s water supply until I can find a way to replace it,” Nate said, getting up from his crouched position and dusting himself off. “But that’s not why you’re here. Now, what’s so important that you have to scream across the entire settlement that you’re looking for me, John?”

Hancock gave the Vaultie one of his winning smiles. “I thought we’d finally get to celebrate our victory over nature with a toast. Though the house wasn’t outfitted with the necessary paraphernalia to do it.”

Nate wiped the oil off of his hands before he gestured for Hancock and Aiden to follow him.

The Vaultie led them to, what looked like, a cozy looking cottage at the back of the settlement, far secluded from the other houses. They entered a small hallway, which contained both paintings and a couple of doors, and once at the end of the hallway, it opened up to a spacious room with a high ceiling, and it was nothing like Aiden had ever seen before. Shelves upon shelves of comics, alcohol, drugs, guns, ammo and screws, divided the room into smaller sections, each section containing its own lounge-like area with comfortable furniture and tables, complete with ashtrays and other smoking utensils.

“Wow,” Aiden commented, thoroughly impressed of the Vaulties not so modest housing. Walking along one of the shelves, he pictured it must have been a similar experience to walking down an untouched supermarket.

“Pick your poison,” Nate commented as he walked up to an ice cooler, and pulled out a beer for himself.

Hancock strode straight to the Curio and picked up three glasses and a bottle of bourbon, pouring himself a helpful serving, before practically throwing himself into the couch next to him. A sigh of relief escaped him, together with a whispered comment that ‘ _ this what he was talking about _ ’.

“Want a beer, Aiden?” Nate asked, in which Aiden answered in the positive.

As the Vaultie picked out another bottle, Aiden was still admiring the vault-dwellers extended collection of, well,  _ things _ .

“Aiden, get over here,” Hancock called.

“I will,  _ later _ ,” Aiden answered, still not willing to abandon the displays just yet. “Just keep your pants on.” 

“Let him look around,” Nate said, opening his own beer with a pre-war bottle-cap opener. “It’s not like he can get lost.”

Aiden heard Hancock answer, but choose to ignore it in favour of inspecting a small bookshelf at the other end of the room. The small case was filled with all sorts of literary classics, most of them seemingly unscathed.

_ Where does he even find these? _

Aiden lifted up a copy of John Steinbeck’s ‘Of Mice And Men’ that was still in pretty good condition to have survived the Great War. Turning a couple of pages revealed that although the pages had turned yellow, they were still intact, and seemed to be all accounted for.

_ If we stay here, I’m gonna need to curry some favour with the ol’ Vaultie. _

Placing the book back where he found it, Aiden threw a last longing glance at the small library, before he continued down the row.

He jumped as he passed two life-sized mannequins, initially believing them to be guards stationed there to prevent theft. Though the idea that the Vaultie would need to guard this place was probably more due to Aiden’s inherent distrust of people, rather than him believing there was an actual need to protect the Vaultie’s belongings. Looking more closely at the armor on display, he assumed that the settlers were probably not interested in causing trouble for their landlord.

_ Begs to mention, why wear leather when he has Combat Armor on display? _

Shaking his head in wonder, Aiden moved on. The path brought him to a cozy, enclosed space, where the walls were stacked with shelves upon shelves of different chems. In the middle, a round table filled the space with four chairs pushed neatly against it.

“Aiden, hurry up, will ya’?” Hancock interrupted Aiden’s exploring.

“Gimme a minute,” Aiden answered back, listening intently for footsteps from either the Vaultie or Hancock. To his relief, he could hear both of them drinking where he last saw them.

He walked around the room and stopped in front of one of the shelves, where several bottles were stacked tightly to not fall off the narrow shelf.

_ Bingo. _

Aiden had never seen so much Buffout in his life. Lifting one of the bottles, Aiden carefully shook it to determine the amount of pills left, and was thoroughly surprised by the soft patter he received in return. While the label was weather-worn, not unlike other containers he had seen, it clearly stated that, when full, the bottle should contain thirty doses.

It was clear that the bottle was not unopened, making Aiden curious if the Vaultie had chosen to fill the bottle in accordance with the label. Based on the rather organised collection he had seen thus far, it would not surprise him if Vaultie liked order in all aspects of his (life) storage.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Aiden whispered breath taken after having removed the lid. The bottle indeed looked to hold thirty or so pills. Closing the bottle and replacing it, Aiden tried another, shaking it like the last one, only to come to the same conclusion as with the first: it had been refilled with 30 doses.

Putting it back like he did the first, Aiden stood in front of shelf and contemplated what he should do with this newfound knowledge.

“Aiden, last warning,” Hancock yelled, effectively breaking Aiden’s train of thought.

He sighed before responding. “I’ll be right over.”

It was too short a time to come up with a plan. Regrettably leaving the chem-assortment section behind him, he walked back to where Nate and Hancock were working hard to reach their daily recommended intake of booze.

“What took ya’,” Hancock asked, filling his designated glass with what Aiden supposed was Bourbon, topping off Nate’s and his own glasses before putting the bottle down.

“Have you seen this place?” Aiden exclaimed incredulously. “It got fuckin’ everything. Where’d you even find all this?” he asked the Vaultie.

Nate shrugged his shoulders. “Here and there,” he answered, taking a sip from his glass.

“Now to the important part,” Hancock said, lifting his glass. “To the living, goes the spoils.”

The sentiment was echoed by both Nate and Aiden, clinking their glasses together before drinking.

Aiden however felt the need to add his own touch to the cheer. “And may we  _ never _ have to do that  _ again _ .”

Hancock and Nate shared a meaningful look, one that Aiden was unsure if he liked. “Well,” Hancock said with a grin.”If you’re gonna tag along, who knows what’ll happen?”

Rolling his eyes, Aiden could not help but sigh. “Never leave home without your certified Deathclaw repellent. That’s a thing, right?” Aiden asked the Vaultie.

“Yeah, sure,” Nate agreed easily. “Think they sold it at Fallon’s in the ‘Camping equipment’ aisle, right next to the Mosquito nets and the Rain Ponchos. Speaking of, I really miss Rain Ponchos. It might be a very insignificant part of the pre-war world, but I miss it nonetheless.”

“Must be hard,” Hancock sympathised. “Thinking back on a time before nuclear holocaust tore the world apart, and realise there’s just somethings that’s no longer attainable. I don’t envy you.”

“Sure. But then again, I lived in an era where there was a daily threat of some nation deciding to drop a nuke on us. At least  _ that’s _ a thing of the past.”

Aiden could not stop staring at the Vaultie, trying to determine in what way he and Hancock were messing with him. Because, based on what they said, it distinctly sounded like Nate was around  _ before _ the big one. And, unless he was some weird Ghoul, or even possibly a synth, there was no way that was possible.

“I’m onto you,” Aiden stated, probably making himself sound way more drunk than he actually felt.

The banter continued in that fashion, Hancock teasing Aiden, and Aiden paying back in kind. It was pleasant, if not to say enjoyable. Just listening to Nate and Hancock talk was soothing enough to make Aiden forget his troubles for some time. And in the end, Aiden had no track of how many glasses he had emptied, only that he would not mind repeating this.

With only a mouthful left in his glass, Aiden downed the rest of the contents and experienced that heavy laden feeling of alcohol spreading to his limbs. Until he realised how that particular effect, could be attributed to other substances than alcohol. Or  _ lack _ thereof.

_ Not good. _

Quickly scrambling out of his seat, Aiden made up some half-hearted excuse that he needed to relieve himself, before rushing out.

Aiden managed to reach the exit, and around the first corner, when his legs stopped carrying him. Falling to the ground, the ex-raider narrowly avoided a head on collision with the landscape. Pushing himself up, he could barely hold his own weight. Not only could he feel his muscles giving out, but there was a disturbing feeling of pressure over his chest that was making each breath laborious. Aiden painstakingly reached for his pockets; a difficult feat from his position. While the pocket was not deep, the tablets still evaded Aiden’s reach. And his frustration was only mounting as they kept eluding capture. As his fingers finally came into contact with the first one, he quickly withdrew it from his pocket and swallowed it down. Aiden barely felt any effect; the vice around his chest still pulling tight. Digging in with his hand again, Aiden finally caught hold of the last two, and popped them into his mouth as well. Once the third pill had started working, he felt relief wash over him as he once more gained control over his legs.

“Ya know,” Aiden heard a raspy voice say behind him. “If you’re gonna relieve yourself, I think you’d be better off standing up and not on all fours.”

Aiden froze.

_ Oh, fuck! Please, oh please, tell me he didn’t just see me. Fuck me! _

 


End file.
